18. Drasuk

18

Drasuk

I spend hours watching her, my eyes tracing the delicate lines of her form against the dim light. The forest around us hums with life, but all I can focus on is Kira. She intrigues me, but there's something else, something deeper, that pulls me toward her.

Something that reminds me of my short-lived obsession with Nkisa in my youth... The one I knew better than to talk about with my broodmates.

As the night wears on, I find my thoughts drifting. I've never spent this much time with a female I was focused on before, especially not one so different from my kind.

Maj'Ras males rarely interact with civilian females unless chosen when they go into heat. It is very bad form to pursue Maj'Ras females, since they chose a warrior's path, and I was never interested in being confined to a city.

Kira's presence stirs something unfamiliar within me. Doubt, that's what it is.

I don't like it.

I remember the way she bristled at my teasing earlier, the flash of anger in her eyes. At the time, it had been amusing, but now I wonder if I crossed a line.

Was my excitement to engage with her overwhelming?

Different species have different ways of expressing amusement and interest. What's entertaining to me might be uncomfortable, even offensive, to her.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I did not want to stop. If I'm honest with myself, I don't plan to stop. It's too satisfying.

I just don't know why.

My gaze drifts back to her, curled up defensively in the makeshift shelter.

That sweet scent she carries wafts toward me again, and I inhale deeply, feeling a jolt of energy course through my body.

The realization hits me hard: I want to mate with her.

The thought is as exhilarating as it is terrifying. It has been a long time since I felt this way, and it's both thrilling and confusing. I have no idea how to convince a female to choose me for her heat, which is very inconvenient since this little human seems to be right in the middle of hers.

Suddenly, I can't stand being so close to her. The urge to act on my instincts is overpowering, and I know I need to distance myself before I do something foolish.

With a burst of movement, I spring up, scaling the nearest tree with ease. The rough bark feels grounding under my claws, a needed anchor for the chaotic swirl of my emotions.

Some things aren't meant to be felt, let alone expressed.

As I reach a branch high above, I hear her voice, faint but clear. "Taking the first watch, then?" she mutters, still half asleep from me disturbing her.

I pause, torn between the desire to respond and the need to maintain my distance. "I thought you needed rest more often than me, being of weaker constitution and all," I call down, my tone light but strained.

She doesn't rise to the bait, her silence in contrast to the earlier fire.

Her scent invades my nostrils again, and I hastily continue my ascent, finding a perch where I can keep an eye on her without being too close. The distance helps, but only slightly.

She still consumes my thoughts.

I try to focus on my surroundings, to lose myself in the familiar rhythms of the night, but my mind keeps drifting back to Kira, to the way she challenges me, provokes me, and draws me in.

Maj'Ra females are fierce and commanding, their presence demanding respect, and in some cases outright awe. Kira is different—smaller, more delicate, but with a similar strength of will.

She's a puzzle I can't solve. A challenge I can't resist.

Hours pass, and the night deepens. My thoughts are a tangled mess, a confusing blend of desire, curiosity, and uncertainty. The urge to be close to her, to protect her, to understand her, is overwhelming.

It's not natural, as any drak would tell me.

I know I need to tread carefully, to respect her boundaries and her strength. I can only hope I can navigate this new territory without doing something stupid.

Eventually, exhaustion sets in, and I find myself drifting into a low-level sleep, my senses still attuned to the sounds of the forest and the presence of the human below.

A prickling sensation jolts me awake.

It's not external, no danger lurking in the forest around us. It's internal, a burning ember deep within me that explodes into a roaring furnace the moment my eyes fly open. Desire—raw, primal, and utterly terrifying—slams into me with the force of a charging bull.

I let out a startled sound, a strangled mix of a growl and a choked gasp. The sound, ridiculous in its absurdity, earns a snort from below. I glance down to see Kira, still thankfully curled up in the makeshift shelter, but her eyes are narrowed in suspicion.

"What now, Drasuk?" she mutters, her voice laced with sleep and annoyance.

"Nothing," I grumble, forcing my gaze away from her. "Just... clearing my throat."

Clearing my throat. Right.

Because that's a perfectly normal drakonid activity in the dead of night.

I clench my hands, digging my claws into the rough bark of the branch beneath me. This is unsettling. I've never felt anything like this before, this all-consuming need that sweeps away rational thought.

It's exactly why our ancestors avoided the sorts of bonds manticorids and other species have.

Shame burns in my gut alongside the fire in my loins.

Hours crawl by, each minute an eternity. I spend them perched on the branch, a sentinel consumed by an internal battle. I focus on the forest floor below, the play of moonlight filtering through the leaves.

Finally, with a growl that rumbles deep within my chest, I can't take it anymore. I have to put more distance between us. With a burst of strength, I propel myself farther up the tree, the rough bark reassuring under my claws.

The higher I climb, the cooler the air becomes, carrying a faint scent of sand and something else. Freedom?

I reach a sturdy branch overlooking the vast expanse stretching before us. Below, the forest gives way to a seemingly endless sea of sand dunes, shimmering under the pale moonlight. It's a familiar sight, a stark contrast to the lush greenery surrounding us.

A pang of longing stabs at me, a yearning for the desolate beauty of my home world.

Taking a deep breath, I allow the cool desert breeze to wash over me, clearing my head somewhat. Scanning the horizon, I check for any signs of danger, a habit ingrained in me since I was a hatchling. Seeing nothing but the silent dunes, I turn my attention back to the forest below.

A sharp gasp rips through the night, shattering the fragile peace. My gaze snaps down to Kira's form. She's thrashing violently, her limbs flailing, a strangled cry escaping her lips. Fear, stark and raw, shoots through me. I look around for threats, but don't see any.

She's having a nightmare, I realize.

I recognize the signs all too well. Night terrors are a common affliction among younger draks, especially after witnessing the brutal battles between the various vicious species on my planet and the Maj'Ras.

Even for a species as combat-oriented as us, it still does damage.

It's a visceral experience, one that scars both body and mind. While the effects usually dull with age and are replaced with latent, controlled bloodlust, the vulnerability it exposes is one of the more constant brutalities we are forced to endure.

My first instinct is to descend and pile on top of her, the usual response we use to anchor a thrashing Maj'Ra. But logic slams into me. She's human, fragile, and nowhere near as robust as a drakonid.

That kind of restraint would crush her.

Instead, I launch myself down from the branch, landing beside her with a heavy thud. The noise startles her awake. Her eyes fly open, wide with terror, reflecting the moonlight in an unsettling way.

"Kira!" I call out, my voice gruff with urgency. "Wake up, it's just a dream."

Her scream dies in her throat, replaced by a series of rapid breaths. Her eyes shut again, back to darting around like she's still stuck in a memory. She trembles, but her struggle reduces considerably.