11. Wrenlee

11

WRENLEE

P ulling on Saylor's arm I lead her away before she can react any further. We're partway down the hall when the first scream happens. Both of us stop and turn. I cannot believe my eyes. Sek'su and the other Zmaj are fighting, and this isn't any playing around or boys being boys. It looks like they're trying to kill each other.

People push past us in a rush, and I'm knocked side-to-side while staring dumbly at the fighting Zmaj. My stomach flutters as I stand in shock, blinking in disbelief. I take a tentative step forward. No real plan or reason, but I feel drawn toward them.

"What are you doing?" Saylor exclaims, jerking my arm hard enough to spin me around to face her.

I blink as my thoughts try to catch up and make sense. The sounds of the fighting mix with the screams and hustle of people desperately trying to get away.

"I have to stop this," I say.

This is because of me.

The weight of responsibility lies heavy on my shoulders. It's a strange sensation that I don't recall ever having felt in my life. I've had men fighting over me before, back on the ship and I never felt this. It never seemed, well, real. It was part of the game, and I played my role no matter what it was.

Now I don't know what my role is. I shouldn't be feeling anything for him. It's forbidden, against all the rules, but I do. My pussy aches with both memory and desire. My heart pounds as I see him take a fist right under his jaw. He stumbles back, clearly stunned then he roars, lowering his head and charging his opponent.

"How are you going to stop that?" Saylor asks.

Such a sensible question. It makes so much sense, but sense isn't something that is working for me right now. I know I must stop this. Period.

I jerk my arm free of her grip. She grasps for me again, but I dodge and hurry forward. When I'm only a few feet away from Sek'su I realize the futility of what I'm trying to do. The two Zmaj are massive, and both are clearly in a full-on rage. What can I do to stop this?

Yet I keep moving ahead with this feeling that I must, that I'm the only one who can. That I must do something to calm him and stop this insanity.

"Sek'su," I say.

I don't shout or raise my voice. I say his name but the effect it creates far outweighs any volume I put behind it. The instant I speak his name he stops. His fist is half-way towards the face of the other Zmaj who slams his forearm against Sek'su's wrist, knocking the intended punch to one side.

They both stop there. Sek'su turns, looking at me and my heart speeds up. Our eyes lock onto one another and a tug that is becoming too familiar pulls on it, drawing me towards him though I don't move nor does he.

His lips part and mine tingle in anticipation of kissing. I can't move. Can't blink. My breathing is labored, coming hard with each inhale.

"Wren—" Saylor hisses. "We have to go. Now. "

The emphasis she puts on the final word cuts through the magical sensations of this moment. I blink, inhaling sharply, and look around. Dozens of eyes are watching and among them is one of the so-called reporters. He has a lascivious grin on his face as he gleefully makes notes on what should be an impossible-to-find scrap of paper.

For a moment I don't care. I want to throw everything away. All my social standing, my position in society, and all the expectations that have lain on my shoulders since the day I was born. Toss it all into a giant flaming heap on the floor and rush into Sek'su's arms.

It's crazy. Insane. Yet I take a half-step toward him then reality crashes in with so much force it rocks me back onto my heels.

I can't. I can't do this.

I spin on my heel and Saylor moves in unison with me. It's a move we do instinctively, borne from long years of being scrutinized for every micro-gesture and expression. We stride away together with a fa?ade of bravado that belies the emotional storm in my head and chest.

The voices of the onlookers chase after us as the gossip mongers and grinders of the rumor mill begin their work.