Chapter 17

“It’s very flattering.Thirteen prospective mates is unprecedented. I’m sure the other eyries are impressed, but of course, it would be impossible to manage a nest that large. We’ll have to decide on the best options. I think eight would be a good number.”

“Six at the very least.”

We’re sitting in the main feasting site again, but I haven’t had much of an appetite. My gazla father and Illson are discussing my future as if I’m not even present, but Hanen and Kal aren’t much better. They’re just as invested as the others, even if they remain quiet.

“Jace did very well. I didn’t expect a human would be so capable. He’s a fierce warrior,” says Illson. He’s actually speaking to me this time.

“If you’d listened to me before, you wouldn’t have been surprised. He’s more of a warrior than I am. I told you this.”

“Sohen!” My gazla father glares, and it’s as if I’m a youth again. “Have you become so corrupted by the outsiders that you’d disrespect one of your fathers?”

“I believe it’s time for Jace and I to leave,” I tell them, rising from my bench. “I thought we could participate in the mating rites. I wanted to experience our traditions with him, but you won’t accept my decisions. I never intended to do more than visit. I fear that I’ve confused you, and I regret that, but there will be no nest. We won’t remain in the eyrie.”

“You can’t leave.” Illson steps in front of me as if he means to block the way with his body.

“Why not?”

Some of the others are looking now, curious over the commotion. Gazlas and elders alike assess our family with subtle glances before they speak softly amongst each other.

“Because a gazla’s place is by his nest. His strength comes from his mates and his young. If you leave, you will never experience that fulfillment.” My gazla father walks to Illson’s side, each of his words like another weight tacked onto the ullazo I’m wearing.

I feel too hot, like I’ve spent the day working under the sun. The layered ullazo seem to press down on my chest, squeezing and constricting until I fear my lungs might collapse beneath the weight.

“Don’t ignore us, Sohen,” says Kal from the right.

“I’m not. I’ve listened to you, but I can’t stay. We’ll complete tonight’s feast, but Jace and I leave in the morning. Please inform the station that we’ll need a shuttle. I’ll also need to send a message to my captain to ensure our ship will be in orbit.” I open my wings wide enough to display the patterns that mirror Illson’s and cross my arms over my chest. “Forgive me, fathers. I’ve disappointed you again, but my life is out there. It was my mistake to believe I could come back.”

I hold the pose until it hurts, but none of them say anything. I lift my head, but they’re looking at each other, not me, silent words passing from man to man as they come to a decision.

Hanen is the one to step forward and take my arms, the only one who hasn’t spoken since I returned from the mating trial at Jovas Lake. “There should be no strife between fathers and their young. Enjoy the feast, Sohen. We’ll contact the authorities, but these things take time. It is unlikely a shuttle will arrive before tomorrow evening.”

“Hanen is right. Continue celebrating the festival. Share this time with your future mate, but know we would fully accept him if you should choose to stay,” Illson adds as he places his hand over Hanen’s on my arm.

“Thank you, fathers.”

I should feel comforted, but I can’t settle. They release me, and I walk away. I’ve barely seen any of the eyrie due to the festival’s strict schedule. Every moment has been accounted for, even when I’ve felt as if all I’ve done is wait.

Tomorrow evening at the earliest—that means Jace will be expected to complete another trial before we can leave. My fathers claim the sahvatso hunt was the most challenging task planned, but I’ll stop it if there’s even a hint of danger towards Jace during the next trial.

I look around and notice I’m taking the path to the pools. They’re empty now, although I remember seeing a mix of younglings and fathers enjoying their warmth in the past. The eyrie feels strangely empty. The heart of our people lies on its opposite side—our children, our future, the ones who will tell our stories after we return to the winds.

The sun has already sunk below the horizon, but it isn’t dark yet. Everything appears faded and desaturated, even my own hand when I hold it before my face. I walk to the edge of the largest pool, and then I look down at my reflection. No joy brightens my expression, and no pride lifts my wings. I appear troubled and aged, not at all like the other carefree gazlas awaiting their future mates at the feasting site.

It’s as I told my fathers; returning was my mistake. I’ve been a fool since S’ahveki’s ship flew us off Sannaveh, and if I don’t want to remain so, it’s my responsibility to change it. I slide my hands up my forehead and grasp the base of each horn. A groan stretches my lips, and my hips buck forward.

I drop my hands immediately and look back and side to side to make sure no one witnessed my embarrassing display. My fingers tremble against my thighs, and I stumble away from the pool’s edge. My cock stiffens, and my unas is already separating, the oval head slicking my shaft with its mating fluid.

There’s something wrong. I don’t want to return to the feasting site in this state, but I can’t remain here either. If I ignore it, perhaps my erection will weaken and subside.

The walk back seems much longer. I’m halfway to the feasting area when I give in and wrap my hand around my shaft and give it a rough pull. I shudder at the sensation. My palm feels shockingly cool, but I lean into the discomfort. It hurts to touch myself, but I can’t stop. I need to come, to spill my seed and put an end to this throbbing pressure in my groin. I don’t imagine Jace or any other man—it’s purely mechanical, my hand working my cock, a means to an end.

I hiss as hot spend coats my hand, dripping down between my fingers. I keep going until my secondary release follows. A weak aftershock makes me tremble all over again, but despite the copious evidence that I took my pleasure, there’s no satisfaction in it. The only relief is that I’ve softened. I flick my hand, dislodging most of my come, and wipe away the rest on my leg before I continue back to the feasting site.

Every bench is filled when I return. I search the crowd for Jace. He’s rubbing his eyes, his hair falling over his forehead. He’s flanked by Vozu and Zana. Their legs touch his, wings stretching to meet behind him. They look like mates, and it makes me want to snap their bones until they’re rubble, to grind their treacherous bodies to dust.

A hand closes around my forearm, talons poking at my flesh. “Come sit, Sohen. The feast begins,” says my father Hanen.

I let him drag me to the gazlas’ bench, but I don’t eat. I’m done pretending. I stare at Jace until he meets my eyes, and I savor the fire I see aimed back at me. The only thing that keeps me seated is guilt. It will bring my fathers enough shame when we leave before the festival ends. I can endure one more meaningless meal.

Someone nudges my arm. I catch the smooth sheen of the ritual chalice out of the corner of my eye and turn to accept it. Black fingers are wrapped around the base, and they don’t let go. I follow the line of a man’s thick forearm from his wrist to his shoulder and then up to his handsome face. Zeema’s lips spread into a faintly mocking smile.

“You seem troubled, Sohen. Perhaps the muhlsa will ease your worries,” he tells me.

I yank the chalice from his hands and drink deeply. I need it to burn away the remorse, to make the hours blur. I never thought I’d miss the schedules of the ship, but the relentless advance of the clock tempts me now.

“I believe Jace would look beautiful painted in blue. It’d match his eyes. Tell me, do all humans have eyes that color?”

I lower the chalice, but I can’t seem to hold it still. My grip is too tight for steadiness. “No. Brown is the most common natural human eye color.” I don’t look at Zeema when I reply. I hand the chalice to the gazla on my left and keep my face fixed straight ahead.

I don’t feel the changes in temperature as strongly as Jace, but I still noticed the chill in the air last night. Now, my hide feels too thick, like I’m suffocating beneath a heavy blanket, and the only breezes that reach me tonight are unpleasantly warm, lashing heat across my limbs. I shift on the bench, but I can’t get comfortable. Someone offers the chalice again, and although it doesn’t seem as if it should”ve already found its way back to my hands so soon, I take another drink. The liquor settles agreeably in my stomach, providing some small measure of relief against my restlessness. By the time I hand the cup to Zeema again, the hostility previously roused by the simple sight of him has lessened. I can meet his eyes with some semblance of calm.

He tips his head back and takes a long swallow. He moans as he lowers the chalice, meeting my eyes over its pale edge. “Do you feel it?” he asks.

My gaze snags on the throbbing tendon that runs along the column of his neck. My mouth dries as my hips twist. “Feel what?”

Zeema looks down slowly, and it feels like a lazy caress across my hide. He’s staring at my cock. His face tightens as his eyes close and his tongue extends. “The heat rises within us.” He’s almost whispering, but I hear him clearly.

It takes a long moment before his meaning penetrates the fog hazing my mind. My thighs slip on the bench, eased by something slick and thick. I look down, finally aware enough to feel alarm. I’m dripping, and my cock is rapidly filling. Just looking at it seems to encourage it to grow stiffer. My tongue slides across my lower lip, and I feel the sensation echoed across my unas. It’s so easy to imagine Jace’s supple lips closing over it, massaging the organ as my fingers sift through the soft strands of his hair. I thrust up, admiring the way my wet shaft gleams beneath the starlight and the lanterns.

Zeema chuffs, the sound low and throaty. “Yes, you feel it too. Are you thinking of your human, Sohen? In your fantasies, are you filling him or does he fill you first?” He leans into me, his shoulder pressing against my arm as he looks down at my groin. The tip of his tongue draws circles over my hide before he sucks in a breath and speaks. “One man could never be enough. I saw him take his pleasure at the pools. He’s too hungry not to be shared. I could sate him—my nest would work between those supple legs while I fed my seed directly into his soft mouth.”

My balls are full and heavy, and I can’t seem to stop my endless, wavering moan. I don’t know whether it’s more pain or anticipation that prompts it. Part of me is furious at Zeema’s words, but the rest latches onto the images of Jace’s lips glazed with spend and his thighs slick with mating fluid, his hole stuffed with Lohnya cock.

“Get away from him.” The steely voice is achingly familiar, even though he’s not supposed to be standing so close.

“Jhevase?” I smile up at him, but he doesn’t return it.

“Get up, Sohven.” He grabs my wrist and pulls. I’m slow to follow, but not for lack of desire. I want to obey him, to please him, but my legs won’t move fast enough. “For fuck’s sake, how much of that muhlsa crap did you drink?” he hisses into my ear as he slips beneath my shoulder, supporting me as he urges us forward. I just grin, happy to have Jace in my arms any way I can get him. He stiffens beneath me and his head whips back, blunt teeth revealed by a vicious snarl. “You,” he says, the venom positively dripping from the word, “touch him again and you’ll learn a sahvatsu isn’t the only predator I know how to handle.”

I let him lead me away. It’s easy to ignore the shouting voices that try to follow us. My body’s humming, like it knows that Jhevase is exactly what I need. It’s hard to walk as fast as he wants to go, and the urge to press myself against Jace is undeniable, so I don’t even attempt to stop myself. Feeling him, smelling him, tasting him—they’re as essential as the blood pumping through my veins. My cock slides into the dip where his thigh meets his groin, and I gently bite the back of his neck to keep him in place as I rut against him. His hand comes down hard on the underside of my asscheek, and I cry out.

“Cut that out. We haven’t even left the feasting site. Just hold on a little longer for me, big guy—I’ll take care of you.”

He knows just what I need to hear.

I try to stop, but my hips keep thrusting as we move, catching friction where I can find it. He keeps turning his head to the side when I try to sniff him, to take in more of his unique scent. I don’t know why he won’t let me savor him.

Suddenly, we’re turning, and then he backs me up against a wall of smooth rock. It’s wonderfully cool against my wings, but I forget about our surroundings when Jace drops to his knees. He looks up at me, supple lips pressed thin, and then he sighs. It hurts me that he doesn’t seem to want this as much as I do. I move my lips into the shapes that should form the sounds of his name, but I don’t put any force behind it—I don’t end up saying a thing aloud.

Jace sets his hands over the tops of my thighs and looks directly at my cock like it’s a challenge. Another dose of warmth swirls in my belly when I see that expression on his face. When my hips rock and my erection prods his jaw, he fixes a stern look on me before he clasps his hand around the shaft. He squeezes just to the edge of discomfort before he pulls me forward by the cock. As soon as the head touches his lips, Jace slides his hands up over my ass and hauls me to him until my cock is lodged down his throat.

He pulls back and repeats the motion, setting up a punishing rhythm. I never believed I could dislike anything about having Jace’s mouth on me, but he’s never touched me in such a perfunctory way before. It’s like he wants to milk my orgasm out of me as efficiently as possible, while I long to luxuriate in the impossible perfection of his lips and tongue.

He’s swallowed my unas along with my cock, but the appendage slips free for a moment like it has a consciousness of its own. The small head spurts mating fluid, and it drips down Jace’s cheek. Under the light of the stars, it almost looks as if he”s been crying. His eyes flutter closed as he moans around me, and then I’m mesmerized by the beautiful sight of his arm pumping between his own legs. The pink head of his cock is pointed towards me as his hand works furiously over the delicate skin. My Jace has never been patient. If he’d waited, I would’ve gladly taken care of him, too.

I’m transfixed by him, by his wet eyes when he looks up at me, by the beauty of his body and the ungodly paradise I find each time he takes me deeper into his mouth. I’m still staring when my climax begins. It rolls in like a tide, subtle at first, but then it smothers everything in its path until all I know is pleasure.

Jace pulls back enough to release my cock before his tongue slides beneath the head of my unas. He closes his lips around it, and then he sucks hard. My second release fills his mouth, and Zeema was right—he’s greedy for it, hungry for me. His throat bobs as he swallows. I’m still coming as he strokes himself faster. He screams as his release paints my legs, but he doesn’t open his mouth, still suckling me through until the very end.

“Sohen!”

The voices from the feasting site seem to be following me, but I’m not sure why I’m imagining them now.

“Sohen, release him. Step away.” Wings snap, and they’re not my own. “You may not plan to stay and complete the festival’s final rites, but while you’re here, you will respect our traditions. Gazlas remain separate until they claim their nests. Move away.”

By now, Jace is sitting back on his heels, cheeks red and mouth wrecked. His gaze is too sharp for a man who just gorged on my come. I want him drunk and dazed, dizzy from the taste of me. My unas feels cold without the warmth of his tongue. I step away from the rock and shake out my wings, extending them fully before I tuck them back and turn to the left.

“Illson, my father.” I stop there, words failing me when I see him. I almost cover my thighs with my hands, anticipating the swipe of his talons, but I remind myself that I’m not a youth any longer. He has no right to discipline me.

“Return to the feast,” he orders.

I bend my head and cross my arms over my chest in submission for the second time this evening. Then I start walking, but my father chuffs like he’s not sure whether he should help or leave me to my own fate.

“Turn around. You’re going the wrong way. This is why gazlas drinking muhlsa aren’t supposed to leave the festival grounds by themselves,” he tells me, and it eases me to hear the fondness in his voice. I smile weakly at Illson before I look for Jace. I extend a wing and one arm, reaching out to him. “He’ll come soon,” interrupts my father. “Go ahead. Join the others at the bench.”

I shuffle forward a bit, uncertain I should leave at all.

“It’s okay. I’ll be back soon.” Despite my father’s warnings, Jace sets his smaller hand over my forearm. “Go,” he tells me.

I just want to pull him close and keep him. I don’t want to listen to him, but of the two of us, he seems to have the clearer head. When he lets go and steps back, I don’t fight it.

The walk back feels too long. I’m exhausted and jittery at the same time. Just like before, I should feel satisfied, but need curls and grows inside of me like a vine, voracious and overwhelming. When I reach the feasting site, no one seems to be eating. They drink from the chalice and each other, their mouths on necks, thighs, and arms. I can almost see the steam rising from their bodies, and that icy dread slips past my defenses again. There is something wrong. The desire I feel won’t be sated, not yet, and there’s a reason—heat.

I stagger forward, clumsy under the realization that my body’s betrayed me this way. I collapse onto the nearest bench. I’m closer to the other prospective mates than tradition dictates, but I’m not going to touch any of them. I’m going to keep my distance and hope I can hold myself back until Jace and I are alone again, and then I’ll surrender to the frenzy. I can overcome this. I’m stronger than my instincts, stronger than my past.