Chapter 5

The storm grew into an impressive monster by the time he'd gone around the mountain, making sure everything was secure. Most of his pack had hunkered down for the night, with a few remaining to finish filling buckets or those on shift to take watch until morning.

Freys had already done the rounds, bringing in new supplies that the scavengers returned and making sure the generator that needed fixing got fixed. Draka had gone and checked on the men guarding the entryways, giving them permission to take shelter for the night, not expecting anyone to be stupid enough to come around and to try to sneak in.

When he was certain everything was taken care of, he climbed the stairs up to his room, a little keep within the station. His body was weary even as his mind was restless.

The hunt had gone badly. He might have thought it entertaining that the human female thwarted him so well, but after learning of what had happened—how she had killed one of Margrul's closest packmates and fled—he had been much less amused and much more concerned. He knew Margrul would go looking for her, seeking blood. When the news had hit him, he'd left Freys to defend the mountain and took off with a small group.

They'd searched the caves, the city, and the mines but found no trace of her. They spoke to those in the city, but none knew of the human's whereabouts. They caught one of Margrul's men and forced him to confess that Margrul's pack had come up empty-handed too.

Thank the brightburn gods for that at least. But even with a sliver of hope that she was still alive, the storm was slowly crushing that hope the longer it raged on through the night.

He came to the door of his room and curled his hands into the little crack of the door before pulling it open. The mechanism to open it automatically had been broken before he"d come but even having a door at all was a luxury. He stepped into the room and wrenched the door close behind him.

The room, he was certain, had once been an observation deck. The station embedded in the rock might have been military at one point in time or even a base for the Arkona guards. Many planetary cycles later, it had gone abandoned before eventually being taken over by prisoners, then by territorial packs, and now by him.

He and many of his packmates theorized those who had started Arkona were starting to slowly abandon it, turning it into a slave camp now run remotely by their drones. Even the guards in the city now were mostly bots. Most of the living ones stuck to the transport station delivering fresh new prisoners.

From opposite the door, along a crescent-shaped wall, was a row of darkened windows looking out to the city. Now, of course, there was only darkness and snow, but when it was clear, he could see down to the valley.

The lights above didn't work, but he had several heat lamps along the perimeter of the room. Between them and the heat below, the room stayed nice and warm. Set to one wall was a wide mat with two thin pads, several furred blankets, and pillows to serve as his bed. Near the foot of the bed was a burner kit used as a small stove with his kettle and mugs and a couple of cushions to sit on. He had a large metal basin to another side, a table with a small stack of books, and a couple of gems and animal skulls he'd found in the tunnel-ways of the mountain. A metal chest was pushed to one wall filled with a few spare food items, extra clothes, gear, and a couple of knives he'd made himself. Next to the basin were two barrels of hot water ready to be used.

It was no king's room, but it was better than what most had on Arkona and for that he was thankful. Though he wished now he had a certain someone to warm his bed at night, he couldn't ask for much more.

He took off his coat and set it on a chair by the table, then he used a sparktool to light a bowl of wax, watching the flame dance within. As if responding to the light, something moved underneath a handmade map beside the books, shifting back and forth. He heard a soft chittering and scratching. He pulled back the map and revealed a hairless creature with dark blue skin, eyeless, and a pointed nose with two large fangs for the front teeth. Bushy whiskers where its eyes would be wiggled intensely, its sharp claws curling.

"Crik, you menace." He picked up the little blue ball and clicked his tongue when he saw the little teeth marks on the table. "I won't have a table left if you keep this up." He put the creature down onto a set of rocks he'd piled in one corner, Crik's mountain. He'd found the ground dweller many moons ago looking lost, one paw mangled. He took him to Serbril, their physician, demanding he fix the poor thing. He told Draka he'd be better off eating it and Draka told Serbril he'd break his teeth for considering it.

Maybe he'd been a little over the top, but the truth was he was so damn lonely even a pet gave him some measure of joy. He had his pack, some he dared to call friends. But, in many ways, he could never fully trust them. They were all the scum of the shadow cleave after all, even himself. No one could be trusted.

As he took off the rest of his clothes, he thought of the human woman again as he did every night when he lay alone in his room. Because of their kin's past, he shouldn't trust her at all. He should have wanted to kill her as soon as he saw her.

But he hadn't. It took him some days to figure out why he had reacted the way he had. Why such a strange primal need, a sort of desperate hunger, had driven him to want her.

She had awakened his heat.

Not something easy to do, not even for sidonions, let alone another kind. Some males didn't even recognize they were in heat since it happened so little. They could feel aroused by others at any other time, but the heat was a whole other beast. Having a human awaken his heat, however, was not normal.

He had to think about that too. Why her?

Then he managed to come to some basic but plausible conclusion. In a way it was because she was familiar. Even if their kind had a dark, bloody past. And yet she was completely new, fresh, someone he'd like to sink his teeth into.

She was not his kind and yet she appeared as this rare, beautiful creature. Like a brightburn goddess gifting him with her presence.

He wanted to see her submit to him in a way none had.

Crazy. He knew he was. The others knew it too. He saw the looks they gave him when they thought he didn't notice. Maybe he thought it was his loneliness at first, driving him mad. But he was certain now it went much deeper than that. Not just his heat but a strange force that drew him to her like a flame in the cold night.

With his clothes in a pile, he stepped over to the basin and lifted one barrel, pouring the hot water into the basin. He poured the other next, leaving a little of the water for tea after. When the water settled, he carefully lowered himself in.

He laid his head across the top of the basin and closed his eyes. He thought of the pool at the other side of the mountain. He'd gone there many times, especially after she'd appeared, in hopes she might return. It was sad he couldn't be there now, waiting for her, enjoying the heat while watching the stars and the solarstreams above.

The image of the female came clear into his head, as clear as the day he had first encountered her. He hid within the entrance camouflaged in the rock by a thin sheet. He stayed deathly silent as she pleasured herself, watching her body arching, head thrown back. He heard those little breathless gasps coming from her, then a whimper and moan. Water licked between her breasts, tender flesh begging to be bitten. She writhed and rose, coming to her need, and he was so stupidly enthralled he had no other thought in his head but to go to her. Her scent was intoxicating, her taste maddening.

His cock hardened from the memory. He imagined what he would have done if she had not fled, if she had given herself to him like he had hoped she would. He would have closed the distance between them in the pool, lifting her up on to the rock, lying her on her stomach, then spreading her out and tasting her, exploring her with his tongue until he felt her body shudder and shake against him and heard those sweet whimpering moans.

He took a hold of his cock, brushing his hand upward. His thumb slid between the two curved prongs at the tip, making him hiss softly. He stroked in a slow rhythmic pace, his mind always on her, always on that lovely, raw image. As he squeezed himself a little harder, he circled his thumb along one of the sensitive ridges near the head. He gritted his teeth as the heat and pressure between his thighs started to peak. The fibers on his back stood on end and his muscles started to tense, feet curling.

He envisioned her arching against him as he took her, his heat filling her, her body writhing in need underneath him. He never had a human, but he imagined she'd feel good, and even if she didn't he doubted that would stop him from finding his release.

Desperate, he sat up and reached out of the tub for the scarf. He grabbed it, bunching it in his fist, pressing it to his face.

Her scent took over his senses. A low growl clawed up his throat as his release came in waves of heat, which spilled into the water. He bit the scarf, imagining it was her flesh instead as he marked her as his.

He rode his mating fires, one hand gripping the side of the tub, his claws sliding out to dig into the metal. His heart hammered in his chest as his breathing hitched and he let slip a quiet groan.

The heat subsided, leaving him only hungry for more. He dropped the scarf on the ground and felt the swell of ecstasy turn into a sinking disappointment as loneliness set in again, like a blade digging into his heart. The vision was gone and reality hit him like a slap across the face. That the little human he wished to have was still out there but might not survive for long.

He really hoped she wasn't dead.