.11

BENNETT

One thing I had come to find out fairly quickly was this new planet was cold. And not cold like the mountains that had been my last memory of Earth, but a bone-deep, stormy alien like cold that burrowed deep into me. Yet the feline-like aliens of this planet did not seem to believe in closed spaces. Or windows or doors, really. Their ancestors or maybe they themselves had built their civilization into the cavernous cold stone of an ancient-looking mountain. They had carved so deep below the ice and stone they had found a hot spring of sorts to route throughout their homes.

Only, water here didn’t seem to follow the rules of earthly water. Where our water froze at a certain temperature, theirs seemed to thrive. A number of large, deep, and suffocatingly warm cavernous rooms were dedicated only to bathing and swimming. These were open-concept spaces with waterfalls that billowed and steamed with the freezing air, cascading down the sides of cliffs out of sight.

The plant life was another marvel. Anywhere the water flourished, there seemed to be an abundance of flora and fauna peeking out from the cracks and dips in the cavern walls. Most, if not all, were not the plant-like green you would normally think of when foliage come to mind or even see occasionally dotting a snowy landscape. No, these plants were as alien as the felines who called this place home. They ranged in multiple shades of silver, deep blues, light tea greens, and icy lilacs.

As I wandered through these spaces, a mix of awe and discomfort settled in my chest. The beauty of my new environment was undeniable, yet it was also a constant reminder of how far I was from anything familiar. The cold seemed to seep into my very bones any time I strayed to far from the oppressive heat of the waterfall that cascaded down one whole wall of my room into a large pool. The pool which I assumed was for bathing was surrounded by plants of every color and variety, It widened into a more round shape at the base of the waterfall then narrowed as it ran across the length of the room and into open air. Directly across from the waterfall was nothing but misty frigid sky and a long drop down. The edge of the cliff seemed to be barricaded by plants and a bit of a dip that came chest high to prevent anything more than the water from going over the side. It seemed despite their agility their ancestors weren’t completely averse to safety.

On one side of the room, adjacent to the waterfall and nestled into a hidden alcove in the rocks, was a cozy space roughly the size of a king-size bed. It was layered with furs, silks, and pillows galore. Small, fist-sized holes cut into the obsidian stone vented the warm air from the hot spring into the space perfectly, creating a snug, inviting retreat.

To reach this sleeping area, I had to scale rocks up to a ledge, which towered roughly ten feet above me. The climb up wasn’t too awful at first, though the hand and foot holds were spaced farther apart, clearly designed for bodies longer,stronger and more agile than my own. Climbing down, however, seemed almost impossible. After my first attempt, which involved lowering myself as far as I could over the edge, clinging on with just the grip strength of my fingers, I realized I still couldn’t reach a foothold large enough to maintain my balance. I ended up dropping the rest of the way, only to have the wind knocked out of me as I crashed onto the cold stone floor below.

The King appeared rather remorseful after that incident and its resulting bruises along my bottom and sides. Now he rarely left in the morning without bringing me down himself. I appreciated his care, even if it did bruise my pride a bit. It was a strange mix of humiliation and comfort—knowing I was dependent on him for such a simple task but that he cared enough to even do it.

I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the warrior for a few days now, and I couldn’t decide how that made me feel. On one hand, his absence was a relief. I no longer had to endure the tension and fear that had manifested after what happened at the labyrinth. But on the other hand, his absence left a void in the dynamic I had felt blooming between the three of us. And despite everything, I had grown used to his presence, the odd sense of safety he provided even if it had felt suffocating at times. The King’s care and the luxurious space he had given me should have made me feel secure, but instead, they highlighted my dependency and vulnerability. Each night as I lay on the furs, enveloped in warmth of the hot springs,- and more often than not the kings arms, though I still didn’t know how I felt about that- I couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped. The high ledge that at first had seemed like a fun and cozy haven was also a reminder of my isolation and the physical barriers I couldn’t overcome on my own.

The days blended together in a monotonous routine. The absence of the warrior left me alone with my thoughts, and my emotions were a tangled mess. I was grateful for the comfort and warmth but also resented the constant reminder of my helplessness. I felt like a prisoner in a gilded cage, surrounded by beauty and luxury but devoid of freedom and autonomy.

Each time I struggled to scale the rocks to my sleeping space, I was reminded of my limitations. The fear of falling, the struggle to reach the handholds, and the reliance on the King to help me down each morning were constant reminders of how out of place I was in this world. The beauty of the alien environment was overshadowed by the stark reality of my situation. I was a human in an alien world, dependent on creatures I couldn’t fully trust and unable to navigate the simplest tasks on my own.

The waterfall’s soothing sound and the warm air venting into my alcove did little to ease the growing sense of isolation and helplessness. The King’s odd way of caring for me was both a comfort and a reminder of my captivity. I couldn’t decide whether to feel grateful or resentful, and the conflicting emotions left me feeling more lost than ever.

The open spaces and lack of privacy made me uneasy, always on edge, never quite able to relax. The feline aliens moved with such grace and ease in this environment. where there were no normal stairways to move between floors, but large free fall drops with stone perches carved into cliff-sides. In some areas where scaling the rock was impossible even for them- though all of it was impossible by human standards- spaces were connected by vines woven into tight rope walkways thick as tree trunks. Mists seemed to envelope every available inch that wasn’t taken up with plants, steamy water, ice or snow. And while I was left shivering to the point of pain anywhere I went I went. Their fur seemed a natural protectant from the chill, their eyes reflecting the light in ways that made them look otherworldly.

Despite the warmth of the hot springs, I felt a persistent chill, both physical and emotional. The cold stone underfoot, the alien plant life, and the ever-present hum of the waterfalls all served to remind me that I was in a place where I didn’t belong. My mind kept drifting back to Earth, to the familiar comfort of enclosed spaces and the warmth of human companionship.

My heart ached with longing and fear, the enormity of my situation pressing down on me. The vastness of the cavernous rooms, the strangeness of the flora, and the omnipresent cold all combined to make me feel small and insignificant. It was as if the very environment was conspiring to remind me of my alienation.

Yet, amidst all this, there was a strange beauty that I couldn’t deny. The way the alien plants shimmered in the dim light, the graceful flow of the waterfalls, and the serene warmth of the hot springs. It was a world unlike any I had ever known, and despite my fear and discomfort, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by it.

I also couldn’t shake the feeling of not belonging, a human in a world that wasn’t made for me. To be completely frank, I was wallowing in self-pity. I saw it plain as day, that “woe is me” depressive mindset creeping over me like a fog, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do to stop it from spreading over everything that made me, well, me.

This malaise lingered until one morning when the King coddled me awake, his usual kisses and purrs filling the early hours. After weeks without the warrior’s presence, I finally let the despair win.

As the King pulled me into his arms to lower me to the floor of our quarters, I waved him away. His raspy, fluid language was soft in my ear, and he purred, trying to tempt me from my huddled spot on the furs.

But I couldn’t muster the energy to respond. I buried myself deeper into the luxurious pile, my back to him. The King’s purring faltered for a moment, a hint of confusion and concern in the sound. He tried again, more insistent this time, but I remained unresponsive.

The room felt colder without his warmth, and I could sense his frustration growing. He wasn’t used to this kind of defiance from me. I had always been compliant, if not entirely willing. The purring turned into a low, questioning rumble, and I felt a gentle but firm grip on my shoulder.

“Please,” I mumbled, my voice hoarse and weak. “Just… leave me alone.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the King withdrew his hand, and I heard him sigh. He spoke softly, his words lost on me but the tone unmistakable. He was worried, maybe even a little hurt.

I stayed curled up in my cocoon of furs long after he left the room. The tears came then, hot and silent, soaking into the silken fabric. I felt utterly defeated, a stranger in a world that was both alien and indifferent to my suffering. A suffering I couldn’t understand myself. Why couldn’t I shake this? This wasn’t me! I was a fighter. I am a fighter; I don’t just give up. But my strength felt void, my willingness to keep going a vacant space in my head. All I found in its place was sleep.

I woke with a start, the claws soothingly trailing my spine a sensation I hadn’t felt in weeks. I jerked into a sitting position, forcefully trying to untangle myself from the cocoon of my own making to find the source of the familiar purr I could feel rattling in the warm air all around me.

My warrior’s deep green eyes almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the alcove, a soft, almost mournful look shrouding his feline-like features. His ears drooped as he studied my sleep-ravaged form.

“…o..okay….yy..esss?” The words were unnatural and strange on his lips, his fangs causing a slight lisping hiss in places there shouldn’t be, but I recognized the words for what they were. English.

I couldn’t hide the way my whole body lit up, and the noise that left my throat was anything but human-sounding as I threw myself into his arms. His warmth enveloped me, the familiar scent of him grounding me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

He held me tightly, his purrs resonating through his chest and into my own, a comforting rumble that made me feel, for the first time in weeks, like maybe everything would be okay. His claws, so gentle now, traced patterns on my back as if to remind me he was there, solid and real.

“How? How can I understand you?” I all but cried, jerking back away from his chest to look him in the face. His purrs faltered, and he looked at me hard for a long moment, clearly struggling to find the right words. His intense green eyes bore into mine as he hashed out what he was trying to say.

After a while, a thick claw pressed gently against my lips. He spoke a single word in his own language, short and sharp, almost like the bark of a dog. Then, looking back up into my eyes, he mimicked me which a gesture to his ear.

“..h..owww.”

My heart raced as the realization dawned on me. “You’re learning,” I whispered, a mix of awe and confusion flooding my mind. “You’ve been trying to learn my language.”

He nodded slowly, his ears twitching slightly, a sign of his concentration it seemed. “Yesss,” he hissed, the effort clear in his voice. “Learn… you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, not from sadness or fear this time, but from a profound sense of connection. He was trying. He was making an effort to bridge the vast gap between us. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Thank you for trying.”

He nodded again, his purrs resuming softly, a soothing vibration that seemed to say he understood. His claws gently traced the edge of my jaw, his touch light and reassuring. “Khur… tr…try… more,” he said, each word a careful step into uncharted territory for him.

“Khur? Khur is your name?” I asked excitedly, unable to contain my excitement.

He looked at me strangely for a bit, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that I hadn’t had an actual name for him all this time. His ears drooped again then, like a dog being scolded, as he nuzzled into my neck.

“Khur,” he whispered, growling against my throat, “Khur Za’ae Veknil.”

“Khur Za’ae Veknil,” I mimicked, trying and failing to repeat the name in the same smooth purring cadence Khur had so expertly said it with.

He seemed to grow excited at my attempt, his long, thick tongue lapping at the juncture between my neck and shoulder as he rumbled the name over and over to me again. I couldn’t help but laugh and push him away from me. The sensation was ticklish to say the least and a bit sexual. More sexual if you accounted for the fact that I was all but straddling him amid a pile of furs, and barely dressed at that. The warmth from the hot springs almost made the alcove too hot to sleep in clothes, and I had opted for a paper-thin pair of pants that were hardly pants at all, with how much of my legs were showing from a large slash that started at mid-thigh and went all the way to where the cuff of the pants cinched around my ankles.

Despite all that, I felt a flicker of hope ignite within me, warming the cold, empty space that had taken root in my heart. We were different, from different worlds, but he was trying to understand me, to find common ground. And that, I realized, was the first step towards building a life that felt like home if I wasn’t going to be able to get back to earth.

“We’ll learn together, Khur,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “We’ll figure this out.”

His eyes softened, and he pulled me close once more, enveloping me in his warmth. I ignored the slight blush that warmed my cheeks at being partially naked on his lap and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace.

Still, I had to know.

“Why?”

From the thump of his tail and the way his rumbling lowered in pitch before ending altogether, I knew he understood what I was asking, yet he pulled me from his lap, turning his back to me. As if somehow putting distance between us meant he didn’t have to answer me.

“Khur, why? Why did you do that to me?” I asked again, almost desperate as I reached for the warrior. “You really scared me, okay? And I hate being locked up. I hate it. So why?”

The warmth of the cove enveloped us, the humid air thick with the scent of mineral-rich water and the faint aroma of unfamiliar flora. The soft furs beneath me, layered with silks, felt almost oppressive against my skin, a stark contrast to the icy stone of the floor. I watched in fragile silence as his tail curled across the bed, as if unconsciously searching for me even when he had created the space himself. His broad shoulders hunched slightly, and I watched the low light glint off the knife he kept strapped to his bicep.

“…o…okay in.” He managed slowly, his fangs proving especially difficult for him.

“Okay in?” I pondered aloud. “Okay in the cage? You thought I would be safer in the cage than with you? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

He looked at me, lost for a long while, his tail flicking in frustration as he watched me, pondering how to communicate what he was trying to say. Finally, a long string of growling purring words left his mouth as he gripped my chin and forced me to look him in the face. He sounded angry, sure, which scared me, but he looked fearful as he spoke to me in a rush of alien.

I struggled to catch any familiar sounds or patterns in his speech, my heart pounding. Despite my fear, I felt a pang of sympathy for him. His eyes were wide, pleading, his grip on my chin firm but not painful. He was trying so hard to communicate, to make me understand.

“Khur… safe… you,” he managed after he realized his mother tongue wasn’t getting through, his voice trembling with the effort. “Cage… safe. Jaxelis Vex’ryn… bad. You… hurt.”

The air seemed to thicken around us, filled with the distant, soothing sound of trickling water. The furs beneath me felt both comforting and stifling, a reminder of the complex emotions swirling within me. I could smell the faint metallic tang of my own blood as I nibbled my lip to the point of cutting the skin open. The taste mingling with the earthy scent of the cavern, grounding me in this surreal moment.

I searched his face, trying to piece together the fragments of understanding he was offering. The look in his eyes, the tremble in his voice, all pointed to a deeper fear than I had realized. “Jaxelis Vex’ryn,” I repeated, the name rolling awkwardly off my tongue. “Bad. They hurt me.” I said, more to myself than to him.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, his tail now coiled tightly around his own leg. The weight of his fear settled heavily in the space between us, and I felt a pang of guilt for not seeing it sooner.

“Khur,” I said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “I think I understand now. You were trying to protect me. But I need you to understand something too. Being locked up, it terrifies me. It makes me feel helpless and… and alone.”

His grip on my chin loosened, his eyes softening as he absorbed my words to the best of his ability. Slowly, he nodded, his purrs resuming in a low, almost apologetic tone. The warmth of the alcove, the soft light reflecting off the walls, and the steady hum of the hot springs seemed to cocoon us in a moment of tentative understanding.

“No…cage.” he repeated, his voice stronger this time. “Protect… you.. Together.”

The word ‘together’ hung in the air between us, a fragile bridge over the chasm of our misunderstandings. I felt the tension in my chest begin to ease, replaced by a cautious hope.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the King gracefully scales the edge of our alcove. He crawls almost timidly to my side, his ears flat against his head as he watches me closely. Whatever he reads in my face must be enough for him, because moments later he’s prowling closer, nuzzling my face and neck as he curls his tail into a happy spiral with Khur’s. Suddenly, I knew for sure the thing that had been missing from this alcove was Khur. He was like a type of glue, and having the King here without him had just felt wrong somehow.

“Together,” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.

I grabbed the King’s large hand in my own, running timid fingers along his claws as a sign of trust before placing his palm against my cheek.

“Bennett,” I said slowly, attempting to pronounce each syllable carefully enough for both of them to understand.

The King’s ears twitched, a deep look of concentration coming over his face as if he were downloading the reply into his head. After a moment, Khur repeats my name to him, a deep rumbling purr extending the T’s at the end. They repeat the word back and forth to each other, and after a few botched tries, the King and Khur have it down almost perfectly and I can’t hide the smile that spreads across my face.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, what is your name?” I asked. “I know Mister Warrior Kitty’s name now, but I still haven’t heard yours.”

The king looks at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he lets out a long jumble of words in his alien tongue. Khur growls at him, snapping semi-playfully with his fangs before saying in a garbled purr a words that sounds like “Kaiiiii….bad.” to my ears.

“Zidrikai Kujiri Sulgri,” the King purs at me lowly, letting his tail wiggle its way up my inner thigh as I squirmed nervously back into Khur’s broad chest.

“Zidrikai,” I mimicked, my face hot with nerves as I grip his wandering tail in my hands. “Kai and Khur,” I say again just to make sure.

The deep rumbling grows louder with contentment as both aliens nuzzled their way into my personal space. Tails trail over every available inch of my legs as both felines rubbed themselves along my skin. It reminds me alot of scent marking seem done by a number of large cats and dogs on earth. And while a part of me feels shy about the prospect of two aliens possibly scenting me as theirs, the other is just enjoying the moment.

The warmth of the alcove wraps around us like a comforting blanket. The scent of mineral-rich water and alien flora mixed with the musk of the two warriors, creating an atmosphere both strange and strangely familiar. I feel a flicker of hope ignite within me, dispelling the fog of self-pity that had settled over me. We were different, from different worlds, but we were trying to understand each other, to find common ground. And that, I realized, was the first step towards building a life that felt like home.

“Kai, Khur,” I whispered, feeling a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Their eyes softened, and they pulled me close, enveloping me in their warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a sense of belonging. The future was uncertain, but at least we would face it together.

“I missed you,” I said, placing a soft kiss against the fur at the base of Khur’s neck.

“Misss… you,” Khur managed to repeat, each word a struggle but a triumph nonetheless. It was a simple phrase, yet it carried the weight of the weeks we had spent apart, the misunderstandings, the loneliness, and now, the tentative bridge being built between us.

“I missed you too,” I said again, pressing my face into his fur, my voice breaking. “So much.”

The King, now Kai, nuzzled into my hair, his tail wrapping around my leg in a gesture of reassurance. It was then that I realized how much I had come to rely on these small gestures, these moments of connection in an otherwise alien world.

The gentle warmth, the soothing sounds of the hot springs, and the presence of my two companions filled me with a cautious hope. We were still learning, still fumbling through the darkness of our differences, but we were trying. And for right now, that was enough.

.12

ZIDRIKAI

Seated at the ancient stone sovereign’s table, I surveyed the vast expanse of my royal chamber. The room was bathed in the cold, bright light streaming in through the high, open spaces cut out of the cliffside. The air was crisp and clear, a constant reminder of our elevated citadel overlooking the ancient Eldrosi forest. The sovereign’s chamber was vast and imposing, with stone walls adorned with intricate, colorful murals depicting the storied history and proud lineage of the past Kóhani Rulers. The sheer scale and majesty of the room were designed to inspire awe and respect, a testament to the enduring legacy of my kingdom.

Through the open spaces, the silver-green canopy of Eldrosi swayed gently, its movement a serene counterpoint to the gravity of my duties. This was a space that had witnessed generations of rulers, a sanctuary of power and tradition that had remained unchanged for centuries. It was a place of solitude and contemplation, where the weight of my crown felt both heaviest and most significant.

Leaning back in my intricately carved chair, I let my eyes once again drift from the stack of reports in front of me to the view outside. My thoughts were not on matters of state or the pressing issues that required my attention, but on my tiny pink lover, Bennett. Or as my clanmate affectionately referred to him, our little Rix.

The communication chip Khur had worked tirelessly for weeks to coordinate with our specialists was a marvel of engineering, yet it posed its own set of challenges. We had no way of knowing what our little lover’s native language even was, and it was obvious he did not speak Kóhai or Universal. So, we had to devise a way to build a program from the ground up. Khur had been fairly successful, and the chip had been simple to place within the ear canal, yes, but it was slow to learn and adapt to Bennett’s tongue.

“Our little Rix wasn’t speaking enough,” I mused aloud, my deep voice resonating through the vast chamber. “And when he did, it took minutes upon minutes for the chip to unjumble the words and match them with ones that made sense to me.”

My tail flicked in agitation as I recalled the frustration etched into Bennett’s face each time we tried to communicate. The chip, a delicate piece of technology, struggled to keep up with the nuances and idiosyncrasies of our little lovers speech. Bennett’s voice, a melody of foreign sounds, often left the chip scrambling to find meaning.

I sighed, a deep rumble echoing through the room, and ran a clawed hand through my mane. My responsibilities as king weighed heavily on me, but the well-being of my Rix was a constant presence in my thoughts.

Bennett was strong in his own ways, despite being small in stature and having soft, hairless skin more fragile than even a fresh cub’s nesting furs. This left him defenseless and cold, yet the ordeal he had endured had left scars deeper than those visible on his skin. His resilience was evident, a testament to his inner strength and spirit.

That spirit scared me almost more than his natural fragility. It was one thing to know you were weak and act tough, as a Rix often did in a defensive posture to protect their homes. Bennett, despite the constant setbacks he seemed to face, did not seem to know just how weak and defenseless he was—or perhaps the little thing just did not care. He faced every challenge with a tenacity that belied his delicate form, a stubborn refusal to yield to fear or despair. This combination of courage and vulnerability made him both endearing and worrisome, a constant reminder of the delicate balance between strength and fragility.

Rising from my desk, my movements purposefully fluid and graceful from years of battle training, I walk towards the large window. The cold air of the office brushed against my fur, a stark contrast to the warmth I feel whenever Bennett is near. From my place I can see the expanse of Eldrosi below, the forest stretching out like a living web, each tree interconnected by Drusyl, the mother tree. The sight no matter how maybe times I see it is always breathtaking, yet in this moment my attention still feels elsewhere.

My mind continues to wander to the nights spent in the warmth of our shared alcove, the way Bennett would curl into me, seeking comfort and solace in sleep while being so aloof and fearful by day, unwilling to give me and my claw the vows we so craved.

My tail twists itself around my leg reflexively as if instinctually searching for our lover and I know there is no more work that can be done today, my mind is elsewhere. I follow that calling away from the sovereign chambers, scaling the cliff side faster than what would be deemed necessary or safe in an effort to close the distance between me and my lovemates.

When I make it to the room all is quiet, but the soft pulse of my lovemates welcome purr as he scents me at the alcove entrance. Bennett is curled into the fetal position between Khurs legs as I crawl silently across the furs of our nest, his soft pink cheek and nose pressed into the space where the Kohai people’s scent glands are the strongest.

At this point in the hah’ki rituals Khur’s as well as my own will be omitting a deep rich spicy smell meant to entice a new clan mate into becoming a love mate. Not often in Kohai culture is an offer to become a love mate shot down. The process is fairly fluid, and simple love mates can often change, but once the hah’ki vows are presented before Màetí and Tiúha the creator suns, you must then show your devotion to not only your hah’ki bound mate but also said mates nesting clan by vowing to the great mother Kóhana and her mischievous daughters Mítea and Móhai. Only then is a love mate permanently welcome into a nesting clan and offspring gifted to that clan by the great mother.

The fact that our little mate is seeking comfort from my second claws scent could be seen as a good sign, but a deep ache settles in my gut as I greet my love mate back with a soft purr of my own. Our little Bennett knows not what he is doing, nor asking for in moments like this. And a lesser warrior would gladly misunderstand for the short lived pleasure it would bring.

My eyes make contact with Khur, and I fight the mischievousness in me that only seems to rear its ugly head when in the presence of my older lovemate. Since finding Bennett it seems our quiet moments together have become nonexistent. Not by any fault of our little Rix, our attentions have just been equally absorbed with his safety and comfort and less on the carnal desires of each other. My slow movements across the furs almost immediately turn seductive and I hold my Claws gaze and the heat I see rising in his green orbs sends out a perfume of mating musk from my core that I just know has his fangs are aching to give me my vow again. His own mating scent hits me then, thick and spicy and I lick my lips as I come to rest beside my mate.

Usually in the moment neither him now I care who is giving and who is receiving. And more often than not when the mating lust is very strong and our mixed scents have perfumed a space to the point of mindless crazy rutting, we take turns give and taking our pleasures, but I know my seasoned aged lover often finds the most pleasure from when I am the dominant one, forcing his pleasures out of him till he is spent. Though he would be sour for days if he had to admit it.

I take these pleasures from him now, turning him and Bennett so that they lay on their sides, with Khurs beautiful backside facing me and Bennett safely tucked between his arms and curled lovingly into his chest. Bennett makes a sleepy noise low in his throat, but I am to preoccupied with my Claws thick silky tail trailing down my thigh and wrapping tightly to hold me in place against him. My member slides free of its sheath, a thick suede self lubricating pocket along the Kóhai’s groin that protects our soft purple cock and balls from the harsh cold of the great mother. My fangs are all but buzzing as I press his and my own coverings down and out of the way just enough to slide easily into the warmth of him. He releases a low bark of warning at the sudden intrusion, but I know my lover well enough to know he loves the slight pinching pain and tightness as his hole struggles to stretch around my length.

I’m all but curled around my lovemates now, encompassing their bodies with my own as I begin thrusting in and out of Khurs warmth at a deliciously slow pace that has him panting into the thick curls of our Rix. He bares his neck to me now seaking my vow just as much as I want to give it to him. His ears lay flap along his mane, but they twitch with each press of my cock into the soft bundle of nerves at that special place along his walls that it seems I was made to rub.

Bennett is awake now, our eyes meet from over Khurs shoulder and I smile, flashing my fangs almost threateningly as I lean down to lick at the junction of Khurs neck where it meets his shoulder. Bennetts eyes widen in fear and he watches me, frozen in fear and and barely contain interest as I make a mess of his precious protector. I do not mean to appear hostile with our little Rix, but a mating is animalistic and possessive in nature and as someone who is not yet fully accepted into the clan his scent while pleasant is not welcome in our coupling until he accepts the vow. It goes against my and Khurs natural instincts to allow a potential intruder into our nest during such a delicate time.

Normally clanmates stay clear of their fellow mates when lovemates within nesting clans are coupling. Though public sex is very widely accepted and practiced on Kohana and love mates have been known to join and or invite other Kohai to engage in coupling acts with them, it is fairly rare, as hah’ki vowed mates are known to be very possessive of each other and their offspring. Khur and I did not have any offspring of our own, and most likely never would, as Khur was past the number of seasons that was considered the fertile years and I rarely went into mothering heats. I found myself too selfish to really see myself willing to share my love mate with any potential cubs. I had thought myself to possessive to ever share my Khur at all, but now here I was relishing in my lovemates’ deep rumbling purrs of pleasure as he held onto another potential lover. Another species entirely at that.

Khur is panting in time with my strokes now, and I lick another possessive stripe across his nape before biting down hard enough to draw blood. There is a sharp intake of breath from Bennett as Khur cums long and hard in acceptance to my vow, wetting the space between them. And as my gaze remains trained on the little Rix in my lover’s arms I come undone myself, releasing my seed deep within Khurs quivering channel as my knot expands to trap my essence inside my sated and sleepy lovemate.

No one moves for a long while then, Khurs whimpers calm to satisfied purrs and he clenches deliciously around my welling knot until he falls to sleep in my arms. Bennett and I watch each other in silence for a little while after Khur’s purrs turn into soft snores. The dim light of the cavern casts a gentle glow over us, and I trust the message I am trying to convey is clear to our little Rix. His eyes search mine, unsure but also intrigued as least to some degree. In this quiet moment, I silently vow to him that soon this will be him, and he will like every second of it as he comes apart between Khur and myself.

.13

BENNETT

The days passed in a blur of tentative gestures and half-understood words.

No real mention of what had happened in the previous week had been brought up, but I found myself often thinking of it, a lazy afternoon nap with Khur turned into this intense wickedly sensual experience between us that I couldn’t seem to shake. Or maybe I hadn’t meant to be apart of it at all, but the heat of Khurs breath along my skin and the intensity of Kai’s gaze locked with my own as they found their release in each other had felt like an invitation. Not an intimate moment I had intruded on. Is it possible to want two people at the same time? Was it possible to want two being that weren’t even human, but extraterrestrials?

Though I found myself thinking of them as alien less and less as the days went by.

My time was divided between the quiet alcove I had come to see as a reluctant refuge and the wide, imposing chambers that was the home of thousands of Kai and Khurs people. Despite the tension that still lingered, a sense of routine began to form. The constant presence of at least one of the guys, their efforts to bridge the communication gap, brought a semblance of stability to my otherwise tumultuous existence.

One day, in the later hours of the morning, when rays of sunlight filtered through the high, open spaces of the cliffside in a beautiful expanse of shimmering colors, Khur entered our chambers. He brought with him an air of determination. I was still too sleepy to have the energy for. It seemed that once again, he had been up and had slipped out from between our furs way before even the first dim beams of light had even reached our warm little alcove. Patrols and other things of that nature kept him away from me and Kai more often than not. And that bothered me more than I liked to admit, but as some sort of general or maybe guard captain he always seemed to be skirting off somewhere after a quick nuzzle to my cheek and a nip to Zidrikai’s shoulder.

He approached me now with a small, sleek device no larger than the head of a nail in his hand, a glint of resolve in his emerald eyes.

“Khur,” I greeted with a yawn, rubbing the last little bits of sleep from my eyes as he settled beside me on the furs. His tail twitched, a sign I was coming to know as agitation or discomfort for them, but he reached out to stroke my cheek gently so any worries I felt melted away fairly quickly.

“Bennett… this,” he began, his voice thick with effort as he struggled to form the words in English. “Help… you.”

I glanced at the device, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension bubbling within me. “What is it?”

Khur’s eyes softened, and he turned to look over his shoulder at Kai, who was reclined amid the furs, still half asleep himself. He rolled into my side then, curving lazily around my midsection as he did so with a deep sleepy purr. I ignored the blatant display of affection, as I often did with most if not all the boys displays. I was coming to realize this was just a part of who they were as a people.

“Implant,” Zidrikai said, his voice smooth and deep. He blinked sleepy thick eyelashes at Khur in confirmation of the word he had used, who then nodded encouragingly before continuing.

“It will… help.. understand Kóhai,” Khur explained slowly, each word carefully chosen. “And…Kóhai..for Bennett.”

The weight of their efforts pressed on me, and I felt a surge of gratitude mingled with fear. They were offering me a way to truly communicate, to bridge the large chasm that separated us. Yet the idea of having something implanted within me was daunting.

“Is it safe?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” Zidrikai responded firmly, his eyes locking onto mine with a sincerity that reassured me. “Small pain.. then better, no more.”

I took a deep breath, considering their offer. The prospect of finally understanding them, and being understood in return, fully understood, was too tempting to ignore. I nodded slowly, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

“Okay,” I agreed softly. “I’ll do it.”

Khur’s eyes lit up with relief, and he gently took my hand in his much larger one, guiding me to rest between his thighs where he kneeled on the furs.

The procedure was quick but painful, a sharp pinch against my ear canal and into my ear drum as the implant was inserted. I could not help the sharp yelp of pain and instant tears that tracked down my face at the pressure. I fought not to smack Khurs hand away or jerk my head down into my shoulder to evade it. My ears were immensely sensitive after a childhood as a sickly kid with multiple ear infections. How did I ever think I would be able to sit still for this?

Zidrikai watched intently, his expressions a mixture of hope and concern as he ran gentle claws up and down my wiggling thighs and lapped at the tears on my cheeks with a rough cat like tongue.

As the device activated, a gentle hum filled my mind, and I felt a strange sensation of something I can only describe as “connection”. A newfound understanding for the proper names and uses of things around me. The room seemed to shift in my mind, the alien sounds and sights melding into a new clarity. I blinked, looking up at Khur and Zidrikai, who were now watching me with bated breath.

“Khur,” I began hesitantly, my voice sounding strange in my own ears, yet I knew the meaning of what I was saying. “Kai.”

Their eyes widened in amazement, and I realized that the implant was already beginning to work. Words and meanings started to align, the once-incomprehensible language of the Kóhani people becoming clearer by the second.

“Little Rix,” Khur said softly, his voice filled with wonder. “Can you… understand us?”

I knew now from the implant that a Rix was a small creature of sorts that lived in the forests of Kóhani, which still seemed strange and incorrect to me, but I let it go, nodding in reply to him as my tears of pain turned to relief.

“Yes, I can.”

Zidrikai’s stern expression softened, a wide genuine smile tugging at his lips and exposing his powerful fangs. “Welcome, Bennett. Truly… welcome.”

Over the next few days, the implant continued to adapt and refine its translation, allowing me to hold longer and more meaningful conversations with not only the guys, but other Kóhai people living and working within the great Kohani cave systems they called Yelonder, Zidrikai said the millions of caves the Kohai called their homes was the space left behind by the many ancient roots of the Eldrosi mother tree Khur had fondly called Drusyl.

The idea that a tree’s roots were large enough to carve away caverns of this magnitude seemed impossible to me, but the lore behind their world was so interesting it seemed pointless and a bit offensive to put Earth logic to any of it.

I shared some stories of my own world, the beauties of sunsets, oceans and mountains’, but nothing I talked about measured up to beauty and mysteries of Kohana. It didn’t help that Zidrikai seemed more interested nuzzling against my neck and face than listening to what I had to say.

Khur watched us with a laser focus and I found the longer Zidrikai invaded my personal space, the less I was able to focus on putting together actual sentences. Just from watching social interactions, not only between Kai and Khur, but also other Kohani it didn’t seem likely they really cared about overwhelming someone’s personal boundaries.

“Do the Kóhai people not believe in personal space?” I asked, trying to fend off yet another of Zidrikai’s proddings. Since Khur had woken us, Zidrikai had been wrapped around me, and I found it strange that he had not untangled himself from the furs to begin his day yet. Usually, if he did not take me with him, he left shortly after Khur returned.

“What is this ‘personal space’? There is no thing as this in my language,” Khur replied, his cat-like eyes tracking every flick of Kai’s tail as it wound itself further up my thigh.

That answered my question, but now—while I forced Kai’s face away from me with my palm pressed against his jaw and squirmed free—it seemed like the perfect time to explain exactly what personal space meant and why it was so important.

“Personal space is the area around one’s body that humans, like myself, prefer not to have invaded without permission,” I said, rolling myself out of Zidrikai’s vice-like grip and gesturing around my immediate area.

“I do not care for this thing you speak of,” Kai said haughtily. He easily extended his long, thick arms to pull me toward him again before I could fend him off. His ears flattened slightly at Khur’s warning hiss, but even a solid swat from the warrior’s tail was not enough to stop the king from crushing me to his chest.

“Yes, well, I care about it. And you should too,” I said placatingly, once again attempting to free myself from the dark-furred alien’s embrace. “Humans care a lot about boundaries.”

“Why? Love mates do not need such things,” Kai asked, sounding almost childlike. For a moment, I almost wanted to laugh at how absurd it was that the great Kóhai king, the youngest and fiercest warrior victor in Kóhai’s history, was burrowing into my collarbone and whining about having to respect my personal space.

I had barely managed to extricate myself from Kai’s overly affectionate grasp for the second time when a distant, unsettling rumble shook the cavern walls. The vibration was so intense that it sent a shiver through my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Kai’s ears perked up, his eyes widening in alarm as he instinctively tightened his hold on me.

“What’s happening?” I asked, my voice tinged with unease. The cold air seemed to carry a deeper chill now, the warmth of the furs around me suddenly feeling insufficient.

Khur, who had been lounging in the furs near enough to touch Kai and myself, but not close enough to be affected by our tussling, had rolled into a defensive crouch before the shaking had even stopped. His eyes scanned the cave with a sharp intensity that betrayed his concern. Kai released me reluctantly, his face a mask of worry as he moved to the entrance of the alcove.

“Here,” Kai instructed, his voice carrying an authoritative edge as he wrapped me up into his arms and began to scale the ledge of our alcove down to the cave floor below. He glanced at Khur once his feet touched the stone, placing me down as the older feline nodded in understanding, his own demeanor shifting to that of a disciplined warrior and away from the soft gentle creature I was coming to know between the furs.

The sound of the rumble came again, and seemed to grow louder, an ominous noise that reverberated through the cavern. It was clear that whatever was happening was significant, and the normally serene Yelonder, ever bustling with activity and the trickle of water, was now still and fraught with tension.

“Come,” Kai said, his voice firm. He led the way through the winding passages of the Kóhai’s residence, his long strides purposeful. Khur and I followed, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The cold of the cavern seemed to seep into my bones, the once-familiar warmth now a distant memory.

As we emerged into a larger open space, Kohani seemed to be rushing every which way in a frenzy of chaos and the full scale of the disturbing noise became apparent. The once steady flow of the hot springs that ran through almost every cave system in Yelonder had been disrupted, the water cascading in a chaotic rush. The gentle, soothing sounds that had been a constant presence were replaced by a violent roar. Steam billowed around us, creating an eerie, fog-like haze that was almost painfully hot.

“What’s happening?” I shouted over the noise, trying to keep close as close as possible to Zidrikai and Khur.

Khur’s eyes narrowed as he observed the situation. His feline senses were acute, and he was already analyzing the problem. “Mítea and Móhai” he said, his voice strained but steady. “The great sisters must be in disagreement.”

Kai, his expression grim, nodded. “Khur, take your finest Veska Tzara and move all nesting clans from the lower caverns. They will be the most vulnerable if Móhai continues to rage. I will work to quell the unrest, any available space higher along the mountain will be utilized, do I make myself clear Claw?”

Khur bows low in reply.

I looked at them, feeling a mix of fear and determination. “Can I help?”

Khur turns to me, his expression softening slightly. “I would feel more comfortable with you staying in our nest little Rix.” Something in my expression must have given away the fact that I had no intention of staying in bed, because Khur changed his tone fairly quickly. “But if you must please help my Tzar with moving some of the elder clans.”

I nodded my consent. Squirming slightly when both felines nuzzled my curls fondly before going their separate ways. I do not miss the way Kai flicks his tail softly against Khurs ankle before turning to scale one of the many daunting cliffside trails.

We moved swiftly through the chaotic labyrinth of the cavern. The hot spring’s steam was thick, making it hard to see and breathe comfortably, but Khur led with an unwavering confidence. His tail curled tightly along my forearm as he guided us through the swirling mists. It did not take much effort for the Veska Tzara to find us, one by one they seemed to materialize out of the haze. There was seven in total, a group of large lethal looking felines, the best of the best in Yelonder it seemed.

Khur used his considerable strength to start moving some of the weaker Kohani, while his Tzar coordinated with as many clans as possible to start the climb up the mountain and away from the flooding caverns. Their coordination was impressive, each movement deliberate and effective.

I did my best to assist, helping carry baskets and young Kohani that Khur fondly called cubs when needed, though even the younger more gangly felines seemed better at climbing the rocky terrain than I was.

The work was strenuous and the environment was harsh, but the urgency of the situation kept me focused. Oca a stocky and scarred russet color feline and one of the older Lancers gripped my bicep tightly as I wobbled along the edge of one of the many ancient petrified Eldrosi roots that twisted its way across a chasm within the mountain range. He smiled a fang filled grin at me in response to my thank you, but said nothing as Khur swatted him away.

“Do not be careless along the roots little Rix, or I will no longer let you help.” Khur scolded, to which my only reply was a scowl and the flash of my tongue in a gesture of defiance.

Khurs rumbling growl was playful as he swatted me on with his tail, but I made sure to keep away from any edges and always ask for help scaling the many handholds of the cliffside from then on. Though it did hurt my pride a bit. The steam grew thicker, and the heat from the hot spring’s surge was almost overwhelming in places as we worked to bring everyone to safety.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely less, everyone was safely moved from any possible flooding zones. Exhausted but relieved, we gathered at the edge of the caverns filled with nesting clans directly affected by the floods. I made eye contact with a busy Kai, but made no move to bother him, as he bustled about, regally placating issues that battered him from every direction.

“Thank you,” Khur said softly, nuzzling my curls as he came from behind me. “You were a great help today little Rix.”

Oca who also seemed to materialize from somewhere in the haze gave a nod, his ears twitching in acknowledgment at his captains words. The older Tzar’s hand rested gently on my shoulder for a brief moment, a gesture of camaraderie that spoke volumes.

It felt good to be apart of something again, even if something unfortunate like this was the cause of it. It was nice to not feel so much like a victim of space trafficking and more like an average good Samaritan.

.14

BENNETT

The night had settled in, casting a veil of stars across the sky that partially peeked through the open air cavern. Snow flurries speckle the ground in places and the air is cold due to the lack of hot springs, but everyone is safe and dry.

I am thankful for the fact that neither Khur nor Kai looked particularly interested in returning to our chambers, despite the fact that I am shivering from the frigid air. Still somehow it felt wrong in a way to curl up in our cozy little alcove when hundreds of Kai’s clans were essentially homeless until the flooding subsided.

Everyone had separated into their respective groups, which on Kohana were known as Nesting Clans. These clans seemed to function as close-knit family units. I sat with the Veska Tzara, which were an elite group of guards that Khur had told me later in the day were a special group of warriors dedicated solely to Kai’s safety.

The atmosphere was a mix of warmth and camaraderie despite the cold climate outside, almost as if the chaos of the day was far behind everyone. Instead of your typical campfire, a circle of glowing, crimson stones lay amid rock and ice, in baskets, or on a nest of furs, casting a soft, warm light that warded off the chill of the evening. The warmth was inviting, spreading out from the stones and creating a cozy atmosphere. They illuminated the faces of the Kóhai people, casting gentle shadows and highlighting their unique catlike features.

The Nesting Clans around us huddled together, sharing stories and laughter in their melodic, purring language. I observed as much as I could, feeling a mix of curiosity and a slight pang of homesickness, though the closeness of the Kohani people was like nothing I had ever experience on Earth. Even with my own blood relatives.

It made sense now why neither Khur nor Kai really understood the concept of personal space. The Kóhai were a loving and vibrant species, expressing nearly all their emotions through touch, scent, and sound. Physical closeness was a fundamental aspect of their communication, a way of sharing warmth and comfort. They nuzzled, purred, and even entwined tails as natural gestures of affection and reassurance. The concept of personal space, so ingrained in my human upbringing, seemed almost alien in this environment. I felt alien in this environment, and a little bit rude for pushing Khur and Kai away so often.

Here, the boundaries were fluid, defined by the ebb and flow of their interactions. It was a language of the body and senses, where a touch conveyed reassurance, a scent carried the nuances of mood, and the subtle variations in their purrs held more meaning than words could express.

That was another strange thing my newly installed translator seemed to do—scents now seemed to convey words. Not necessarily an actual spoken word that I could hear, but a feeling. A connotation. Even now, I could partially pick up the mood of the warriors around me just by the sharp, tense, and focused scents that occasionally drifted through the air. The translator chip didn’t just translate their language; it also provided a glimpse into their complex communication system, where scents played a vital role in expressing emotions and intentions.

It was a strange and disorienting sensation, like an added layer of understanding that went beyond mere words. I could sense the collective unease of the group, the subtle undercurrents of concern and vigilance that permeated the camp. The Kóhai didn’t just speak with their voices; they spoke with their entire being, and now, thanks to the translator, I was finally putting together a vital part of communication I had been missing.

The concept of Nesting Clans still really intrigued me as well; it was a blend of familial warmth and community spirit. And I got the sense that it was the kind of bond that held the Kóhai society together. It was a comforting sight, yet it also emphasized the vast cultural differences between my world and theirs.

As I watched those around me, I noticed how each clan had its own unique way of arranging the warming stones, subtly reflecting their individual identities and traditions. Some stones were carefully placed in patterns, others arranged haphazardly in a pile atop of regular stones, or resting near their feet as they cuddled in their furs. It was interesting to see, as if the placement of the stones, mirrored the personalities of those who sat around them. The gentle murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter created a peaceful, almost hypnotic ambiance.

Teanu, one of the Veska Tzara I had met earlier in the day, but hadn’t really had the time to get to know very well, must have noticed my curious gaze. He was younger than the majority of his fellow guards from what I could tell, and was more forthcoming with his smiles and words than Oca. The tall, imposing young Kohani warrior, with his silver fur and piercing eyes, leaned forward his flangs dimpling his bottom lips as he addressed me.

“These,” he began, gesturing to the glowing pile before us, “are Kri’zel thraxar lo’kun. A gift from the mothers.”

I looked up, intrigued. “Kri’zel thraxar lo’kun?”

Teanu nodded. “Lo’kun, mothers stones. During the day, they absorb the sun and store its energy. When Màetí and Tiúha set, they release that energy as heat and light.” He picked up a nearby spear and poked at the stones gently, careful not to touch them directly. “They can get extremely hot, especially after a full day of charging.”

I furrowed my brows in thought, glancing at the stones with a mix of fascination and caution. “Hot enough to burn skin?”

Teanu smiled slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Yes, and thinner furs too. We’ve seen more than a few young cubs get curious and regret it. You must respect the stones. Handle them with care, or not at all. They can provide warmth and light, but they can also cause severe harm if you’re not careful.”

I nod, absorbing the information like a sponge. I felt the subtle warmth radiating from the stones and marveled at the ingenuity of the Kóhai people. The idea of a fire without flame, of warmth without the danger of smoke or ashes, fascinated me. It made me feel like this world wasn’t so different from my own after all. They essentially had solar lights!

A stocky looking Kohani male with a muscled frame choses that moment to tangle Teanu into a headlock. “I know a young Tzar cub who did just that, isn’t that right my brave warrior brother?” He teases with a rumbling purr. My translator tells me his scent is playful and caring as he nuzzles the taller felines ears.

“Zan’eth,” Teanu addresses me again, the term he uses slipping through the translator’s grasp, leaving me curious about its meaning. He gestures towards the young Kohani beside him. “This is my kin Riven. We are nesting brothers, though it might be hard to tell at first glance.” Teanu’s voice carries a playful lilt as he continues, “My elder brother is just so short that even the Mothers would find it hard to believe we’re from the same nesting mothers.”

“The Mothers made me strong were they made you tall brother. The better to build your spears and arrows with little warrior cub.”

His size definitely reflects his role as a smith or weapons builder. His fur is a soft, sandy color with subtle patterns of darker streaks running along his back and limbs, giving him a slightly rugged yet graceful appearance. His eyes are a striking shade of amber, sharp and observant, and full of warmth for Teanu. It’s the only feature he and his brother share. He inclines his head in greeting, a quiet but friendly acknowledgment of my presence, before pulling his brother away to speak to their nesting mother.

Khur chooses that moment to appear, his large, warm body curling around mine as he nuzzles my hair affectionately in greeting. The frigid temperature of the space seems to disappear the moment he is within reach. And with a graceful maneuvering of my body, he settles down with his legs on either side of my own crossed ones, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You mentioned the sisters caused this?” I ask softly in place of my own greeting, my voice is slightly strained and muffled as he leans me into his chest. His steady purr vibrates through me, as he turns my face into his neck in what I now know is a scenting invitation and very common between clans as I had seen in a number of times tonight. Though usually one simply raises their chin in invitation.

As if summoned by his lover, Kai is suddenly there as well, but I am partially distracted by the beat colored, sweet potato-like root that Khur hands me as Kai buries his face in my hair and breathes deeply as a hello. The food is still warm from the Lo’kun stones, emitting a sweet, charred aroma that reminds me of roasted marshmallows.

Oca, with his russet fur streaked with scars of many battles, settled himself by the Lo’kun stones as well, nodding in deference to Kai as he does so. His demeanor was one of quiet authority, though he bore the marks of experience and age with a certain dignity, the glow of the stones flickering shadows across his rugged feline features.

As I take a bite, savoring the warmth and sweetness, I ask around a mouthful, “Who are they? Why would they hurt your people?” The question lingers in the air, mingling with the scent of the roasted root and the crackling warmth from the stones.

Khur’s purr deepens, and he shifts slightly, his claws gently gliding over my neck and hair as he begins to speak, his voice low and rumbling with unease. “Mítea and Móhai are the twin daughters of Kohana. They are the forces that clash—a strong storm or ground shake, a blizzard or flood. The sisters are ever mischievous, causing trouble and playing tricks on each other or their mother, Kohana.”

He pauses, his gaze distant as if recalling past events, his claws tightening slightly along my spine. “Their antics have always been a part of the shifting forces all across Kohana, but lately, their games have turned more harmful. They have toppled our century old mountains, torn up the great frozen Eldrosi, and caused our people a great bit of suffering, but this too shall pass, the great Mothers will not let their granddaughters destroy more than they deem fit.”

As he speaks, the warmth of his body against mine contrasts sharply with the gravity of his words. The sweet potato-like root in my hand feels almost trivial in comparison to the weight of the troubles Khur is describing.

“So the twins cause natural disasters?” I ask, my voice slightly muffled as I chew on the sweet potato-like root. I glance down to see Kai making himself comfortable against Khur’s side. Though he doesn’t drape himself over me like he does in the privacy of our nest, his tail soon finds its way to my ankle, offering a comforting presence.

Oca, the russet-furred and scarred Tzar, listens intently as Khur speaks, his gaze steady and thoughtful. His own voice carries the weight of experience as he takes over the storytelling. The unprompted effort from the old warrior to communicate is a bit of a surprise, at least to me. Who had spent the majority of the day with the silent broody older male watching my every step when Khur was not.

“In a sense, Zan’eth, but not quite. ” Oca confirm, his voice rough and gravely from lack of use but steady. “Mítea and Móhai have always been the embodiment of those forces, yes. Their presence is felt in every upheaval and tempest across Kohana, but they are more.”

He adjusts his position slightly, his scars catching the light of the Lo’kun as he moves. “The Kohani have long dealt with the consequences of their mischief, though it is not always bad. We’ve seen our lands transformed by their antics, our mountains reformed by their clashing wills. It is said that their actions are tests of resilience for the Kóhai people, trials meant to forge strength and unity, but for every mountain they topple it is said something new and beautiful is born in its place.

“Khur’s purr deepens, a low rumble that vibrates through his chest as he adds. “Their games can bring about hardship, but the Mothers will always bring balance.”

The warmth of Khur’s body against mine is a stark contrast to the gravity of their words. The root, now cool and half eaten gets swiped playfully by Zidrikai. The last of it getting inhaled before I can even compain, and I fight not to laugh when I see the devious look on Kai’s face. Even when his in King mode he seems unable to help his mischievous nature, though it is definitely more controlled than when we are alone.

“So the twins do more than just destroy? They aren’t all evil all the time.” I ask softly, watching as Khur flicks Kai playfully in warning for taking my food before handing the King a root of his own, with an warm pur. The look on Kai’s face says he’d much rather keep stealing from me, but I turn Khur’s offer for another, full to the point of bursting.

Oca nods, an almost smile on his face as he looks at me. “Balance Zan’eth. Just as Drusyl’s old roots must die to make space for new, the twins must destroy to make room for creation.”

“But there must be something we can do about the flooding? Must we simply wait for the Mothers to bring the balance?” I ask around a yawn, fighting the effects of a long day and a full stomach.

Oca’s grin is full of grip as his feline eyes pierce my own, ’The Kohai always persevere, it is the will of the Mothers, Zan’eth.”

“That is enough stories for tonight old friend,” Khur finally says by way of parting. “Rest now little Rix, we will not dwell on what we cannot change this night.” Khur says firmly, wrapping a fur around me and raising with me in his arms to deposit me amid a makeshift nest of furs.

Khur’s claws gently glide over my neck and hair, his purring a constant, soothing presence as I fall into a deep sleep. Later into the night I feel Zidrikai curl me into his arms a contented purr leaving him as the three of us find sleep together beneath the stars and snow of Kohana.

.15

BENNETT

The following morning, I awaken cocooned in the arms of Khur and Kai, a tangled mess of sweat-drenched furs and formidable feline bodies that make me barely recognizable beneath all the layers. After weeks of mornings like this in our cozy alcove, you’d think I would have become accustomed to it. Yet, after twenty-odd years of relative solitude, the sensation of entwined limbs and warm breaths brushing the back of my neck remains startlingly novel. Zidrikai has taken to nuzzling, licking, and nibbling my neck throughout the night, while Khur’s ears graze my nose, their soft fur tickling beneath my chin.

Despite the closeness, it’s clear that while they prefer me nestled between them—something I’ve experienced many times, falling asleep on one side only to wake up in the center—they also have a need to remain physically connected with each other. Their bodies are pressed so tightly against me that it seems almost impossible for them to breathe, yet they remain entwined. Kai’s long, dark tail wraps around my hips and Khur’s forearm, which is also gripping me firmly at the waist. His powerful legs are curled around mine, his knee nestled between my legs and pressed firmly against Khur’s thigh. One of Kai’s arms serves as my pillow, while the other drapes across my shoulder. His large palm and sharp claws rest deeply in the thick mane that cascades down Khur’s back, as if fearing that Khur could be taken from us in the night.

The warmth of their bodies pressed close to mine is a stunning contrast to the morning chill. Combined with the intricate weavings of the furs, they create a soft, enveloping cocoon that blurs the boundaries between us, making it difficult to discern where one being ends and another begins. The gentle purrs and the rhythmic rise and fall of their breathing form a soothing melody that often pulls me back into a half-dreaming state. This morning is no exception, despite the hustle and bustle of the makeshift camp surrounding us.

When I finally manage to untangle myself from the embrace of dreams, I find myself in a slightly disoriented state, with Khur gently coaxing me awake. After countless mornings, they both know that I’m not an easy riser. I can sleep through almost anything, prone to drifting back into slumber even after being prodded by Kai or Khur with food and other tempting treats. Khur, however, excels in rousing me—his gentle touch and the light scrape of his claws along my scalp and neck pull me from my dreams as he whispers his good mornings, guiding me into a sitting position to prevent me from slipping back into the furs to doze once more.

Despite my attempts to curl into his broad chest for warmth and a few extra minutes of rest, Khur is never easily fooled. The soft morning light filtering into the cavern barely dispels the remnants of sleep clinging to my eyes, and the previous day’s events weigh heavily on my eyelids. The hum of the community around our sleeping area is a significant shift from my usual quiet mornings, yet I can’t help but be drawn to the inviting furs, their rich textures and warm colors promising comfort and more rest.

Khur, noticing my reluctance to leave the warmth, chuckles softly and murmurs, “Such a sleepy little Rix,” as he continues to coax me awake. With a soft sigh, I nuzzle along his collarbone, forcing my eyes open just a crack. He takes this as a sign that I’m preparing to leave the furs and begins to rise, giving me one last nuzzle to my hair. Childishly, I tug on his long, deep-gray tail, trying to draw him closer so I can soak up his warmth just a little longer.

“Stay with me,” I murmur, still nuzzling his tail sleepily. “Can we not sleep a bit longer?” I ask, though I know the answer all too well—there is much to be done to assist the Kóhai today.

Khur, fully aware of my morning grumbling, simply chuckles once more as he nuzzles my hair gently. “Come eat by the stones with your King’s warriors, little Rix. The day will be long.”

The cavern having already awoke to the day, was bustling with the energy as the snow drifted through the open spaces carved into the mountain rock. Soft flakes fluttered down, mingling with the warmth the Lo’kun stones and casting up steam that warmed the space. Every breath seemed to crystallize in the air, but if Zidrikai’s people felt the chill they did not let it show. The Kohani seemed right at home despite the disruption in their lives, moving about their morning routines with purpose and grace. Clans gathered in clusters, their dark furs and vibrant colors creating a lively tapestry against the backdrop of the cavern’s stone walls. The faint crackle of flurries and food melting on the Lo’kun stones mixed with the rustling of furs and idle chatter as they prepared for the day ahead.

In one corner, a group of Kohani were busily arranging crates of Lo’kun and other odds and ends that had been a great help in settling everyone the night prior, their movements fluid and practiced. Nearby, others were tending to their nesting areas, carefully brushing away the accumulated snow, fluffing their bedding and storing it away to ensure it was ready for another night.

As I moved to seat myself among Kai’s Tzar around the stones, still slightly drowsy, the smell of breakfast began to waft in my direction and effectively roused me into the present. The Kohani’s idea of breakfast was a unique blend of dried meats, rubbed with spices so potent they made my eyes water, and sweet, oddly-colored fruits cut into bite-sized pieces. The fruits had been warmed and slightly charred from being placed on the stones, their caramelized edges giving off a tantalizing aroma.

As I finished my breakfast, the spicy meat and sweet fruit providing a surprising but welcome contrast, I felt a growing sense of camaraderie and purpose. The Kohani were a resilient and resourceful people, and I was beginning to understand more of their ways with each passing day.

Khur, ever attentive, helped me prepare for the day with practiced ease. He guided me into a pair of thick warrior leathers, each piece meticulously designed for the rugged environment of the cold mountain. The leathers were stained a deep, earthy hue to conceal dirt and wear, and featured a newly sewn flap to cover the tail hole—an adaptation for my lack of a tail that had crisscross leather straps pulled tight and tied along the back of the waste to cinch them tight to my hips. The material was sturdy and practical, vastly different from the thin, billowy fabrics and intricate jewels favored by the Kohani.

As I observed the other Veska Tzar, it became clear that these leathers were a specific type of warrior garb. They were lightweight and skin-tight, allowing for maximum agility and minimal hindrance in battle. Despite the practicality of my attire, which included a loose-fitting top in a rich, earthy green that was a few sizes too large for me, Khur had carefully tucked the billowing end into my trousers. This adjustment kept the fabric, which would otherwise have draped down to mid-thigh like a dress, securely in place and prevented it from obstructing my movement. The other Tzar, however, wore very little on their upper halves, exposing their dense fur covered chest to the cold. Leather straps were pulled tight around their biceps and chests, providing a functional and minimalistic form of protection. Some chose to adorn themselves with a sparse array of jewels, though these were practical and not likely to impede their performance in battle. Their manes were thick and long, seamlessly blending with the dense tuft of fur that ran down the center of their spines and ended at the base of their tails.

Many of the Tzar, along with other Kohani, took pleasure in styling the mane’s that grew from their heads and blended into their ridged spine fur. Some used braids, leather straps, or even ornately carved bone ornaments to keep the longer pieces pulled back from their faces. This not only added to their striking cat like appearance but also served practical purposes it seemed, preventing their hair from interfering with their vision and movements.

Khur also took meticulous care with an unexpected addition to my attire: a pair of new boots. These boots, reaching up to my calves, were designed with ties at the top to keep the flaps securely closed around my legs. The interior was lined with soft, insulating fur to keep my feet warm against the cold mountain air. Multiple layers of furs and sturdy leathers covered the soles, providing extra protection for the balls of my feet and ensuring durability on the rocky terrain.

The boots were a surprising gift, especially given that throughout my time on Kohani, I had yet to see anyone wearing shoes. It was clear that these boots had been tailored specifically for me as the Kohani themselves, with their large feline-like paws, had little need for such things. Their animal like feet, adapted to the rugged environment, seemed more than sufficient to stand up to the ice and snow and rock of this planet. And so I had chosen to endure the discomfort in silence, hoping that the soles of my feet would eventually callus enough to protect me from the biting cold and the sharp stones of Yelonder. Unfortunately, this plan often proved futile. I found myself frequently listening to Khur and Kai scold me while they bandaged my bleeding or scraped toes and soles. This concern, among other things, often kept me from venturing beyond our alcove to explore the city as I wished.

And though Khur and Zidrikai were generally occupied with their duties to their people and did not intend to confine me to our quarters, they were also not keen on me wandering alone. They regarded Yelonder as a relatively safe haven, but their protectiveness was evident in their reluctance to let me explore without their accompaniment. The new boots, therefore, were not just a practical addition to my attire but a gesture of their care and attentiveness, but another means of independence they wished to grant me.

The city was a labyrinth of treacherous long drops, frigid temperatures, and precarious balancing acts—dangers that rendered exploration both daunting and a bit terrifying. Despite my background in nature, where I had often camped, hiked, and vanished into the wilderness for weeks, my experiences had been more about fulfilling professional obligations than seeking an adrenaline rush. In Yelonder, however, navigating the rugged terrain often meant clinging to the side of a mountain or traversing unstable ledges—challenges that were as formidable as they were unsettling. Even my experience as a trail maintenance worker in a number of national parks across the U.S. hadn’t prepared me for the extreme demands of Kohana’s landscape.

Reflecting on my life and job before my abduction was a painful and uncomfortable thing that left me visibly flinching. Despite the longing I felt for home while trapped in that cage, revisiting those memories now felt raw and unsettling. I often found myself sidestepping thoughts of my past, avoiding them to prevent the ache of my previous existence—a life of solitude, workaholism, and isolation. Things were undeniably better now than when I had first been abducted, and dwelling on my past as a lonely individual without friends or family seemed counterproductive to the happiness I was beginning to find. Yet, if I were honest with myself, I was merely avoiding the inevitable confrontation with those old wounds, postponing the reckoning that might have caused me to crumble as I had before. I knew this avoidance wasn’t healthy, but the thought of unpacking it all felt overwhelming. Perhaps I wasn’t ready to face it, or maybe, deep down, I feared I never would be.

“Stay close, little Rix,” Khur murmured close to my ear, his voice a comforting rumble as he finished adjusted the ties on my new boots. “The day will be long, and we must prepare.”

The Veska Tzar, Kai’s personal honor guard and revered warriors of high status within the Kohani community, were diligently focused on their preparations for the day. Each member moved with purpose, wrapping themselves in thick furs and adjusting their finely crafted weapons, their expressions stern and unwavering. These warriors, held in great esteem for their strength and skill, worked methodically, ensuring that every blade was sharpened and every strap secure, ready to face what the day had in store for us.

Khur and I, now fully equipped and ready, joined the other Kohani as they set out for the day’s tasks. The morning was crisp and vibrant, the sunny snowflakes filtering through the rocky openings adding a touch of magic to the day’s start. I took a deep breath, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that I was not alone.

The hike was brutal, to say the least. Every step felt like a battle, the cold mountain air burning my lungs as I struggled to keep pace. I was often out of breath when I could walk, and slightly humiliated when I couldn’t, forced to rely on the stronger, more capable Kohani for support. They were a race built for this terrain, with their massive frames and incredible stamina, while I, at just over six feet and 200 pounds, felt like an awkward child trailing behind giants. For the record, I would have you know that’s a fairly average build for a man my age, though admittedly, the months of idleness had taken a toll on my muscle mass.

The shortest warrior in our group easily stood a foot taller than me, and their dense, muscled frames had to be pushing 300 pounds or more. They moved effortlessly over the rugged terrain while I stumbled and fought for breath. Each of their powerful strides only highlighted how out of place I was in this environment, and by the time we reached the source of the problem, my legs felt like jelly.

When we finally arrived, the damage was immediately apparent. A massive rockslide had partially blocked the main flow of the hot springs, causing the water to back up and create dangerous pressure points. Steam hissed and rose angrily from the cracks in the rocks, the built-up pressure creating an ominous rumbling that echoed through the cavern. The blockage was significant, and without immediate intervention, it was clear the consequences could be catastrophic. The entire spring could rupture, flooding more of Yelonder and potentially causing widespread destruction.

I stood there, staring at the scene, realizing the sheer scale of the problem. The jagged rocks piled high, slick with moisture and barely stable. Beneath them, the water surged, straining against its temporary prison, desperate to find release. It reminded me, in a way, of how I’d felt trapped for so long, bottled up in a life I hadn’t chosen. Now, the hot spring was like a living entity, fighting against nature, threatening to explode with all its pent-up energy.

I glanced at Khur, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the damage. His expression was calm but determined. Without a word, he gestured to his Tzar, and they sprang into action. Their discipline and efficiency were something to behold, their swift movements like a well-rehearsed dance as they divided into groups to handle the situation. I had seen this kind of organized chaos before, back in my old life. My team at the national park worked similarly when we faced rockslides or fallen trees, but even then, our efforts lacked the raw strength and precision of the Kohani.

One group, myself included, began clearing the smaller stones, setting them aside carefully, while another team worked with heavy ropes and tools to shift the larger boulders. It was meticulous work, designed to slowly release the built-up pressure of the hot spring without harming anyone in the process. With every stone I managed to move, however, I noticed Teanu chuckling at me from the corner of my eye, his wide grin showing sharp teeth.

“Are all of your kind this tiny, Zan’eth, or do you simply shrink when you’re alone?” the young warrior chuffed, his tone teasing but not unkind.

I shot him a playful look, wiping some sweat from my forehead and flicking it in his direction. “Did it ever occur to you, Teanu, that I’m not tiny? Maybe your head is just so big that everything else looks smaller by comparison.”

At that, Teanu burst out in a deep, booming belly laugh, the sound so infectious that the rest of the group chuckled along with him. It lightened the atmosphere, even though the work was hard and dirty, and I found myself grinning despite the strain in my muscles. My hands ached, already raw from the sharp edges of the stones, but the camaraderie in the air made the task feel a little less daunting.

Meanwhile, Khur himself took charge of the most difficult task. At the center of the pile was a massive rock, lodged so tightly that it seemed immovable. Khur’s powerful arms strained as he worked with his team to dislodge it, his muscles rippling with every effort. His focus was absolute, commanding the attention of everyone present as he directed his Tzar with short, efficient gestures. They moved in sync with him, their discipline clear as they coordinated the efforts to clear the blockage.

Or maybe it wasn’t just their discipline that held my attention. I couldn’t help but admire the way Khur moved—effortless, strong, and unyielding. It was hard not to keep my eyes on him, even as I returned to the task at hand. The way he took control of the situation, making even the heaviest tasks look like second nature, was captivating in a way that I found both impressive and, if I was being honest, a little distracting.

Teanu caught my lingering gaze and nudged me with his elbow, smirking. “Careful, Zan’eth, or you’ll end up flattened under one of these rocks while you’re busy staring.”

I rolled my eyes, my cheeks heating slightly and denial heavy on my tongue, but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Don’t worry, Teanu. If I get flattened, it’ll be because your head was so big I couldn’t see the rock falling on me.”

We continued the hard work, but the playful banter and the steady rhythm of the Lancers’ teamwork made it easier to forget how dangerous the situation had been just moments before. Every so often, I’d steal a glance at Khur, who was still locked in his task, his presence as commanding as ever.

The ground trembled beneath us, a subtle reminder of the pent-up pressure from the hot springs, creating an undercurrent of urgency. The steam that rose from the fissures in the rocks was oppressive, its heat thickening the air until each breath felt labored and heavy. All around me, the cavern was alive with noise—the clatter of shifting rocks, the grunts of exertion from the Lancers as they struggled against the unforgiving stone, and the relentless hiss of steam escaping in sharp bursts from the cracks. It was a battle of will between us and the mountain, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation pressing down.

For a moment, it seemed as if the situation might spiral out of control, the pressure mounting to dangerous levels. The ground beneath us groaned as if the mountain itself was warning us to hurry. But just when it felt like we might not be able to stop the impending disaster, I noticed a change. The air, once thick with steam and heat, began to ease. The water’s angry roar, which had reverberated through the cavern, softened. The Tzar, guided by Khur’s unrelenting focus, had cleared the final boulders, allowing the pent-up water to flow freely once more. The pressure that had threatened to explode was steadily released, and the roaring torrent of the spring began to settle into a more controlled, gentle cascade.

As the water flowed naturally through its course, the oppressive heat dissipated, replaced by a bearable warmth. The steam, which had once choked the cavern, thinned to a soft mist that clung to the cool rocks like a fragile veil. Relief washed over me, a wave of calm as the tension in the air evaporated along with the steam. It was as if the mountain itself let out a deep, contented breath, and I found myself doing the same. The danger had passed, narrowly avoided, but the memory of what could have been lingered in my thoughts.

With the spring stabilized and the immediate threat behind us, we began our trek back. The cavern, now quiet and peaceful, seemed like an entirely different place. The earlier chaos and danger felt distant, as if it had happened in another lifetime. The crisp, cool air outside the cavern greeted us like an old friend, a welcome change from the suffocating heat within. My muscles, still tense from the exertion and stress, began to relax with each step down the mountain. As we descended, I glanced back one last time at the spring, now calm and harmless, its flow a gentle murmur compared to the furious roar from earlier.

The hike back felt different, lighter somehow. Though my body ached from the day’s work, there was a sense of accomplishment that carried me forward. The threat of disaster had been narrowly avoided, and while the hot spring now appeared calm, the gravity of what could have happened still hung in the back of my mind. I couldn’t shake the thought of how fragile everything was in this world of towering mountains, deep caverns, and unpredictable landscapes. Yelonder was a place of beauty, but its dangers were never far beneath the surface.

By the time we returned to our quarters, the evening sky had deepened into a rich indigo, a stark contrast to the earlier brightness of the day. Inside, the soft, ambient lights cast long, gentle shadows across the stone walls, giving the room a calming, almost ethereal atmosphere. I had insisted that we stay in the cavern with the Kohani who had been displaced by the flooding, wanting to do more, to help in any way I could. But Kai, ever pragmatic, assured me that most if not all of the displaced felines had already returned to their respective dens, or were settling into temporary shelters or safer areas within Yelonder until the excess water drained.

Despite my protests, I knew he was right. The major work had been completed, and for tonight, there was little more we could do. The real challenge would begin tomorrow—cleaning up the damage, restoring homes, and ensuring that everyone could return to their lives. It wouldn’t be easy. The rockslide’s had ruined more than just a few dens, and the clean-up effort would take days, if not longer. But the thought of helping everyone return to where they belonged gave me a sense of purpose, a reason to push through the exhaustion.

As I lay on our furs, the tension in my shoulders finally easing, I realized how much more there was to do. Tomorrow would bring hard work, but I knew it would be worth it. Seeing the Kohani families back in their homes, safe and sound, would make all the effort worthwhile.

The earlier tension of the day had dissipated entirely, replaced by a calm that felt almost surreal. Khur, visibly tired from the day’s exertions, stretched out on the furs next to me, his powerful frame finally at rest. His muscles, taut and strained from hours of work, slowly relaxed as he settled into the soft, familiar warmth. Kai, never one to be left out, nestled against my other side, his soft purring a comforting sound in the quiet of the room. Together, their presence created a cocoon of warmth, their purrs harmonizing in a low, soothing rhythm that lulled me into sleep just as the last of the daylight faded.

.16

ZIDRIKAI

I could no longer wait, nor did I want to.

The weeks following the ground-shaking upheaval brought on by Mítea and Móhai had left Yelonder awash in chaos. Massive flooding had swept through our mountain home, and my days had been consumed by council meetings and the relentless task of rehoming and rebuilding for the affected clans. The burden weighed heavily upon me, for the decisions I made now would shape the future of our people.

On my council, I had three representatives—each speaking for the distinct voices of our society. One for the working clans, whose labor keeps our city thriving; one for the warriors and hunters, the backbone of our defenses and food; and the final for the nesting clans, ensuring that the voices of mothers and children were heard and respected. Yet, despite their wisdom, they remained at odds, unable to reach a consensus on the steps we should take. The debates dragged on endlessly, each proposal met with resistance or hesitation.

But I could not afford such delays. Yelonder’s future hung in the balance, and I would be a fool not to take immediate action. We needed new systems—reinforced structures in the larger caverns to fortify the channels guiding the Nyxir’thaxar, the life-giving waters of our land. We also needed clear, accessible escape routes and shelters for the families, should the floods come again. Yet even as I planned, the truth gnawed at me—the Nyxir wove through the mountain like veins through a body, and nowhere seemed entirely safe. The labyrinth of tunnels and caverns that had always been our refuge now posed a threat, vulnerable to the unforgiving forces of nature.

As king, it was my duty to ensure the safety of our people, to rise above the uncertainty and lead with resolve. Every decision carried the weight of responsibility, and though the path forward was treacherous, it was one I must walk, for the sake of Yelonder and all who called it home.

It was unheard of for anyone to leave Yelonder for reasons other than hunting, gathering, or retrieving essential supplies. Even then, such excursions lasted only a few days at most, as the hunters would venture far, finding game and shelter in designated caves scattered throughout the Edrosi forest. Yet now, I felt deeply that this system was outdated and called for a change. It seemed imperative to establish a place among the Edrosi, a location safe and warm enough to house our people in times of great need. The fierce cold of Kohana’s peaks, while familiar to us, was too cruel for the young and vulnerable.

The mothers, ever protective of their nesting clans, could not bring themselves to risk facing the brutal cold of Kohana’s winters. I saw their point clearly—many cubs would freeze before the dawn if left exposed to the biting temperatures that lingered in the shadow of the Edrosi’s towering trees. The forest’s immense trunks and thick foliage blocked the light of Mítea, leaving much of the ground in an eternal, bitter chill. No amount of pelts or furs could shield a child from such relentless cold.

The builders, though reluctant, had agreed to begin preparing a series of dens within the forest. It was no small feat, carving out suitable spaces in the massive trees or beneath the thick roots that stretched through the earth. Even the hunters, whose very instincts thrived in the Edrosi, expressed their unease. The forest was wild and unpredictable, and yet, there seemed no other choice. We needed a refuge, should another flood or disaster strike Yelonder again.

But while I should have been wholly focused on this task—on the plans, the logistics, the survival of my people—my thoughts wandered elsewhere. Despite the urgency surrounding us, I could think only of Bennett. The pull was too strong, too consuming. I no longer cared if Khur thought it was too soon, if he believed we should wait longer. Every fiber of my being longed to give my love mate my vows, to bind ourselves together in the way of my people before anything could tear us apart.

Exchanging hah’ki vows was no small matter—it was a weeklong process steeped in tradition, often meticulous, exhausting and, at times, tedious. Yet in the wake of the recent upheavals, nothing seemed guaranteed, and I could no longer afford to wait. Bennett, our beloved, was not suited to brave the harsh cold of the forest, nor could he endure the grueling elements of Kohana like the rest of us. His soft, furless skin and smaller stature made even the seemingly safer paths of Yelonder a challenge for him. Khur often reassured me that Bennett was quick to learn and adapt, but it was clear he wasn’t made for this rugged world.

Despite these limitations, Bennett’s spirit remained unshaken. His inquisitive nature charmed not only Khur and me but the entire Kohani people. The clans had already begun to accept him as their Zan’eth, a position of reverence and respect. He carried himself with grace, navigating our customs with a curiosity that endeared him to everyone he encountered.

The Veska Tzar, ever vigilant, had proven their loyalty time and again, watching over Bennett with unwavering dedication in the moments when Khur and I were unable to do so. Their commitment was absolute, a reflection of their respect not only for me as their king but for Bennett, our love mate. In their eyes, he was already family, a part of the whole, woven into the very fabric of our lives.

Now, with so much uncertain, the need to formalize our bond felt all the more urgent. The hah’ki vows would bind us in a way that nothing could break—a union not just of love, but of duty and soul. Bennett was ours, and it was time the world knew it.

I dismissed my representatives with a nod, silencing their lingering discussions with a wave of my hand. We would reconvene in the morning, and by then, I hoped they would have clearer thoughts. The matters of the clans, the rebuilding efforts, and the safety of our people were urgent, yet my mind was elsewhere. My heart was pulling me away from these responsibilities, no matter how pressing they were.

As they filed out of the chamber, I forced myself to wait a few moments, then maintain a steady pace, resisting the urge to rush back to my quarters. I could feel the impatience clawing at me, an almost unbearable need to be near Bennett. Every moment spent apart from him now felt like time wasted, especially with the weight of our unresolved vows hanging over me.

But a king could not afford to show such eagerness, even for matters of the heart. So, I walked with the same composed demeanor I had been trained to uphold, even as every fiber of my being screamed for haste.

The moment I entered our nest, the low, sinfully rich sound of Khur’s chuckle sent a shiver through me, igniting something primal deep within. Any thoughts of our vows left me in that instant and my hunger for my mates took over. It was the kind of laugh that held power—raw, untamed, and dripping with promise. My fangs ached in response, and my body instinctively tensed, ready, every nerve attuned to him.

One glance in his direction was all it took. Khur’s jewel-like eyes met mine, their usual brilliance now darkened with desire. His gaze locked onto me, intense and unwavering, and a deep rumble rose from his chest, thick with hunger. That sound alone made the air between us heavy with unspoken need, the kind that sent my pulse racing.

Bennett gasped sharply, the sound echoing through the room as Khur’s long, elegant fingers threaded through his tousled locks. With a possessive grip, he tugged gently but firmly, tilting Bennett’s head back until his throat was bared to me—vulnerable and inviting. Bennetts breath hitched, the only warning he had before I moved.

I descended on his exposed neck, my lips brushing the soft, warm skin that practically called out for attention. The heat of his body radiated against me, and I could feel the quickening pulse beneath his skin. My fangs grazed ever so lightly, just enough to remind him of the hunger simmering between us, the primal connection that had only grown stronger with time. Bennett’s body trembled, caught between Khur’s possessive hold and the fiery trail of sensation I was leaving along his throat.

My hot, wet tongue traced the sharp line of Bennett’s jaw, savoring the taste of his skin before I began peppering heated kisses and teasing nips down his throat and across his collarbone. Each touch seemed to send waves of sensation through him, and when his moan escaped, deep and needy, it echoed in the space around us. Bennett’s eyes fluttered, rolling back in surrender as he shamelessly rutted against me, pressing his hips to meet where I had aligned our bodies, his every motion desperate, seeking more of the overwhelming heat between us.

Khur, ever the attentive predator, shifted beside us. His other hand moved with deliberate care, fingers dancing lightly over Bennett’s sensitive skin. His claws, sharp yet gentle, trailed down Bennett’s side, sending a ripple of raised flesh in their wake. They continued down the curve of his outer thigh, each movement drawing breathless gasps from our mate, who was helpless to resist the sensations coursing through him.

Bennett trembled beneath us, caught between the force of our passion and the pleasure that seemed to spiral endlessly with every touch, every brush of skin on skin. His body quivered, lost to the onslaught of our affection, unable to do anything but submit to the pleasure.

A fleeting part of Bennett’s mind seemed to be struggling to grasp onto reason, to summon the strength to push back, to cling to the last vestiges of his morals. The little thing seemed to think he should resist us, that he should stop whatever was happening to him. But the need surging through him quickly took over, too overpowering, too consuming. It tore through the three of them like a storm, scattering all thoughts and leaving them helpless against the onslaught of sensation. His eyes said his body was betraying him, responding eagerly to my every touch, every kiss, and as the last shreds of his willpower dissolved, I found my restraint waning.

Bennett’s breath hitched, and he made a weak attempt to ground himself, gripping tightly to my shoulders but the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through him made it impossible to resist my caress. Every inch of him was alight, every nerve on fire as he lost himself to the waves of desire that Khur and I stirred within him.

There wasn’t even a moment for Bennett to register my movement before I was running my tongue down his body, pulling the thin fabric of his coverings down his hips and closing my around him. I begin to suck, deep and long pulls that had Khur growling in envy. Whatever resistance Bennett thought he had, left him in that instant and the soft “no’s” that had once filled the air turned to lustful moans and cries for more. Khur gripped Bennetts thin waist -large palms slayed out just above the small things jutting hip bones, while two large thumbs pressed into the indents of our love’s hips -holding him still for me as I liberally pleasured him with my mouth.

Bennetts own hands moved from my shoulders to burry themselves deep into my thick mane. He was a mess now our little lover, all but begging me to bring him his release. I let him control me, moving my head up and down with the rhyme that gave him the most pleasure. He had never touched my mane before and a conceded part of me hoped he was surprised by how thick yet silky it felt between his fingers. Hoped he was pleased with the texture and how it was the perfect length to grip onto while I pleasured him.

After a few short moments of deep heavy gasps, and the soft sounds of sucking echoing throughout our nest, with one last shameless cry for more, Bennett shoots line after line of his release into my mouth. Now he watched with dazed wonder and hooded eyelids as I turned my lust onto our other lover. His gaze was almost unreadable glowing with post release haze as I pressed Khur firmly onto his stomach and sank into his waiting warmth in one deep thrust.

Pleasuring Khur in just the way he craved always brought me joy, but watching as my mate withered and moans beneath me as he clung onto our sated little Rix for comfort did something to me. The hunger for more was all but insatiable and I found myself pressing Khurs prone form almost completely atop Bennetts. I was careful not to let our combined weight press to heavily onto our little human, by now Khur was lost in his pleasure, rutting his member against Bennetts freshly hard shaft. The little human looked flushed with pleasure as Khur joined their mouths and with a deep man released his pleasure between their grinding cores. Bennett followed soon behind him, releasing for the second time and mixing their warm seeds against their grinding abdomens.

I bit into that soft place at the base of Khurs neck then, grinding my own release from his warm hole as I watched my two mates find release with each other. After a few deep breaths I pull myself free, rolling onto my back and pull Bennett from beneath Khur to straddle my lap. My shaft still pulses hungrily against my abdomen as Bennett lays his slightly damp cheek against my rapidly rising chest. Whatever break I sought was short live as Khur appeared above us then, spreading my thighs and with a deep rumbling sign presses his partially erect shaft into me.

My hole clenched almost unwilling to accept his length, but with a deep breath I released all tension from my body and moaned deeply as Khur seated himself fully within me. Khur’s desire for control was a rare and potent thing, igniting a flame within me that mirrored his intensity. Usually, he reveled in the sensation of my body enveloping him, taking what I wished to give wholeheartedly. But when those primal instincts surged forth, urging him to take control, I found myself irresistibly drawn to surrender. It was an unfamiliar role, one that didn’t come naturally to me, yet the thrill of his assertiveness sent shivers down my spine.

In those moments, the air crackled with energy, and I felt a surge of anticipation. I could see the fire in his eyes, a hunger that promised an experience unlike any other. The balance of power shifted, and I was ready to embrace it, eager to explore the depths of our connection in ways that transcended our usual rhythm. The prospect of being claimed by him stirred something deep within, an exhilarating blend of trust and vulnerability that left me breathless.

Having Bennett pressed between us intensified the sensations coursing through my body, amplifying the heat that radiated from both him and Khur. His warmth was intoxicating, a living bridge that connected our two powerful forms. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart, matching the rhythm of my own escalating desire, while Khur’s solid presence added a layer of security and primal energy that sent shivers down my spine.

Every glance exchanged; every brush of skin felt charged with an electric urgency. The way Bennett’s body responded to our closeness—a slight tremor, a soft gasp—only fueled the fire within me. Everything else faded into a distant memory as I lost myself in the moment, consumed by the intoxicating chemistry between the three of us. It was as if we were entwined in a dance of passion, each movement drawing us closer to a culmination of everything we shared. The air thickened with anticipation, and I couldn’t help but wonder how deeply we could explore this connection. My second release came heavy and sudden, pulsing into the warmth between Bennett and myself, and Khur followed soon after. Grunting softly as his warm seed filled me.

My fangs ached something awful once again, a familiar, primal hunger coursing through me. The urge to sink them into Bennett’s soft skin was overwhelming, yet I knew that without the sacred exchange of the hah’ki, my venom would harm him instead of enhancing our bond.

Every instinct urged me to claim him, to mark him as mine, to taste the intoxicating mix of our essences. But I had to resist, focusing instead on the warmth of his body pressed against mine and the way his breath hitched with every movement. The tension between us crackled, but the knowledge that I needed to protect him kept me grounded. I yearned for the moment when we could fully embrace our connection, when the vulnerability of the act would be matched by the strength of our love. Until then, I would savor every touch, every kiss, and release shared between us, knowing that this intensity would only deepen the moment we could truly join as one.

The air was thick with the scents of sweat and lingering warmth, a reminder of our shared night. I felt Bennett’s heartbeat beneath my palm, a slow, steady rhythm that matched my own languid state. Outside, the night was quiet, the world wrapped in a stillness that allowed us this moment. As I absentmindedly traced patterns across his back, I let my mind drift, savoring the weight of exhaustion settling over me. In this sleepy haze, all that mattered was the comfortable weight of Bennett and Khur beside me.

I awoke the next morning to the bright morning sun filtering through the vents that cut into the mountain. They cast a warm, golden light across the room. It danced over the soft dusting of freckles that adorned Bennett’s nose, a delicate contrast to his otherwise smooth skin. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of a deep, dreamless sleep, his small form curled between Khur and me like a delicate creature sheltered in our nest. I fought the urge to move, to rouse him from the slumber he so deeply needed. The tenderness in his expression, the slight flush still lingering on his cheeks, made me protective over this moment of peace.

Most of Bennett’s limbs would no doubt ache when he woke, the kind of pleasant soreness that came after a night spent entwined in shared warmth and passion. His fingers, curled loosely against Khur’s chest, looked limp and tired, the exhaustion of the long night etched into his very posture. I smiled faintly, pride swelling in my chest at how thoroughly he had been claimed.

Khur, usually the first to rise, was dozing softly against Bennett’s back, his large form a comforting presence. His deep, even breathing rumbled in the quiet of the room, his mane falling lazily over Bennett’s shoulder. Normally, Khur would be up with the dawn, his instincts finely attuned to the rhythm of the day, but I had pushed his limits the night before, and even his strength had been sapped. The sight of him, so at ease and restful, was rare—my mate, the claw to my fangs, content in the quiet aftermath of our night together.

For now, I allowed them both this moment of peace, watching as the sun slowly climbed, casting its gentle light over us all.

Normally, my mornings were a whirlwind of activity and responsibilities, filled with the pressing matters of leadership and the needs of my people. Yet, in this moment, as the golden light filled our quarters, nothing felt quite as important as the peaceful sight before me. I wasn’t usually present for Bennett’s sleepy awakenings, as Khur would often rise before me to rouse our little lovemate, his playful morning antics a joy I had missed more times than not.

But today was different. Today, I found Bennett sprawled on his stomach, his cheek pressed into the soft furs, a picture of serenity under the watchful gaze of Màetí and Tiúha, the great creators. The scent of sweat and lingering traces of our night enveloped him, a blend of Khur and myself imprinted on his skin. The light furs I had draped over him the night before were now tossed aside, leaving him utterly bare and exposed, an embodiment of innocence amidst the warmth of our nest.

As I watched, the weight of my gaze seemed to stir him. Like a blessing from the great Mother, his light, multicolored eyes fluttered open, struggling against the brightness of the morning. He let out a soft, sleepy grumble, an endearing sound that resonated deep within me. Attempting to wiggle his way deeper into Khur’s embrace, he sought refuge from the harshness of the light. But even in his efforts, his bare flesh remained fully revealed to my hungry gaze, a sight both intimate and precious.

“It’s too early for you to be wiggling around, little Rix,” Khur murmured partly still asleep, his deep voice resonating softly into Bennett’s tousled hair.

“Who said it was me?” Bennett whined, playfully jerking Khur’s arm firmly across his face, successfully shielding himself from the intrusive sunlight.

A deep chuckle rumbled in my chest at that, the sound vibrating through Bennett and drawing his attention to my much larger form pressing against him. I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine, and an awkward flush crept into his ears as he realized the closeness of our bodies. He wiggled again, a mix of embarrassment and playfulness dancing in his movements.

“Silly Rix,” I laughed, allowing my claws to graze along his bare side, eliciting a soft shiver from him. “You’re going to wake our strong warrior before his time, and then he’ll be grumpy for the rest of the day.”

Bennett let out a soft, incredulous huff, his eyes still half-closed but glimmering with mischief. “Well, maybe I want a grumpy Khur to take care of me!” His voice was playful, but the way he squirmed under my touch betrayed a sweet vulnerability that made my heart swell. In this moment, surrounded by warmth and laughter, I felt an overwhelming sense of contentment, a reminder of the simple joys we had found together in the midst of chaos.

“He’s always grumpy anyhow,” Bennett grumbled, already half-asleep again as he attempted to burrow even deeper into Khur’s embrace.

“I wish to devour you again, little Rix, so don’t tease me so,” I rumbled playfully, my voice low and warm. I wrapped a large arm around Bennett’s middle, drawing him closer and gently pushing him further into Khur’s broad chest. The softness of the furs combined with the warmth of our bodies created a cocoon of comfort that enveloped him completely.

Bennett let out a soft sigh, the tension of the morning easing from his small frame as he nestled into the familiar warmth. “You’re both insatiable,” he murmured, a sleepy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was a delightful sight, one that made my heart swell with affection.

“Perhaps,” I replied, my voice a teasing whisper, “or perhaps you’re just too delectable, little Rix.” With that, I pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, inhaling the comforting scent of him, a blend of warmth and sweetness that lingered from the night.

In this moment, I wanted nothing more than to make our vows official, to gently sink my fangs into Bennett’s milky skin and watch my venom consume him with lust. But the soft rise and fall of Khur’s chest beneath Bennett created a soothing rhythm that made me unwilling to disrupt this quietude. It lulled me back into a half-asleep daze, where the worries of my kingdom felt distant and muted.

.17

BENNETT

It’s always vows this, vows that with these two. I just don’t get it. Every explanation they throw at me goes right over my head. It sounds like marriage, but the way Zidrikai talks about it… it’s more intense, like there’s some deeper meaning I can’t quite grasp. Honestly, it freaks me out in a way I never thought I’d feel again. Back on Earth, I had my own ideas about relationships, but this? It’s on another level entirely. The way they look at each other when they talk about vows, the weight of it—it’s like they’re forging something unbreakable. And honestly? That scares me.

I can’t believe it’s me thinking this way, but it’s strange, feeling tethered to them both, almost grounded in a way I never thought I’d be. In my past life, I would’ve bristled at the idea of anyone getting this close. But here, something’s different. Even when I’m practically swallowed up by their presence, I don’t mind as much. Maybe that’s the odd thing about post-abduction me—I’m still piecing together what I like, what I need, and what actually makes me comfortable.

Khur’s steady strength and Kai’s relentless, playful energy create this strange balance I never thought I’d find myself in the middle of. It’s a far cry from the solitude I used to know, but maybe that’s what makes it so damn intriguing. Despite the constant chaos, or maybe because of it, I find myself curious about this life. Kai, with his insatiable appetite for, well, everything, is fascinating and bewildering all at once. He wants to consume everything in his path—me and Khur included—and somehow, that’s just part of how things work here.

This place pulls me in, all of it. Every bit of it feels so alive and intense compared to what I left behind. Honestly, the idea of going home barely even crosses my mind anymore. And who’d be waiting for me anyway? My mother practically hated me, no father to begin with, no friends, and nothing outside of work. Just a shut-in with nothing to show for it. But here? They’re so in tune with each other and their feelings. Social norms are entirely different, and yeah, it’s a little cold for someone without fur, but… it’s refreshing. If I hang around a few more weeks without a razor, I might just blend in anyway.

But the vows? That’s where it gets complicated. What if it’s a mistake? What if I do it, and then Khur and Kai eventually get bored of me? What if, after I’ve invested everything into this, they leave me? It’s not the cold or the oddity of this world that scares me—it’s the thought of being left behind all over again, alone, after getting attached, after finally wanting to stay.

I was a coward.

So, I said no.

And the look on Kai’s face… yeah, it could’ve knocked a weaker man right to his knees. Khur, though? He said nothing. But in the days that followed, the silence between us was like a slow burn. He was still himself, still the same Khur—just quieter, sullener. But after weeks of being glued to his side, I’d learned how to read him. The flick of his tail was sharper, his movements tighter. He still kept us in line—still corralled Kai and me through the daily routine—but there was a tension in his face that hadn’t been there before. It was like seeing cracks in stone.

Their scents were a whole other story. You could practically taste the emotions swirling in the air. Kai, at first, seemed like he was boiling over with anger at my rejection. But that didn’t feel quite right the longer I sat with it. His scent was wild, tremulous—like he was always holding back something fierce, but now? Now it was something else. Not hurt. Not quite jealousy. Envy. Pure, raw envy, like it was eating him alive from the inside out.

And Khur, well, if Kai was like a raging snowstorm, Khur was the trunks of the Edrosi—vast, sturdy, and rooted like he’d been there for a thousand years, unmoved by time or tempest. His scent had always been earthy, solid, like the ground beneath your feet. Where Kai was rich and spicy, Khur’s scent was strong and fresh, like the crisp air early morning. But lately, there was a shift. His scent had turned damp, almost sickly sour, like rotting leaves or a forest after too much rain. It hit me then: it was sadness. A deep, quiet kind of sorrow he was trying so hard to keep from us, hiding it beneath that stoic front of his. But it was there, lingering just beneath the surface.

Kai stopped coming back to our nest after that first night. Khur told me to give him some time, that sleeping with a lovemate who didn’t want to exchange vows could be overwhelming. He said that despite Kai’s fierce and dominant nature, he was easily swept up by his emotions. I found it hard to believe that someone as strong as Zidrikai could crumble so easily just because I said “no.” Someone as unimportant as me shouldn’t have had that kind of effect, but I kept my mouth shut.

Khur, while reserved, still slept with me at night, waking me up in the way he knew I liked, but even with him here, something was missing. Just like those first weeks when he had avoided me, this time, it was Kai’s absence that felt wrong, like there was a void in our nest.

The days dragged on, and with each passing one, my anxiety gnawed at me. The more time went by, the less inclined I was to give in to them. Logically, I knew it would be easier if I did; everything would be resolved, right? No one would be upset with me anymore, and things could go back to the way they were. But instead, I kept retreating into myself. It’s sort of my default—avoidance. I’ve done it a million times before on Earth. Whenever things got too hard, or I inevitably messed something up, I’d bolt. It’s like I’ve got this radar for self-sabotage, and relationships? Forget it. I’ve never been good at that.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t have any close friends back home. Or maybe it goes back to when my parents gave me up to my grandparents just days after I was born. That whole “you’re not wanted” vibe doesn’t exactly set you up to be a well-adjusted human being, does it?

And now, even here—on a planet billions of miles away, so far from Earth that it barely feels real—I’m still holding myself back. I guess it’s not surprising. Post-abduction me isn’t all that different from who I was before. Just a bit more… lost, maybe. Or maybe this is just who I’ve always been.

If Khur noticed the change in me, he didn’t say anything. Maybe my bad tendencies weren’t that noticeable to begin with, or perhaps they were just looking for a way to boot me from Yelonder—or even from Kohana. That thought gnawed at me, feeding into my spiral of self-doubt. I hated it, but I couldn’t help it. Everything felt wrong, and no one seemed to be doing anything about it.

Even Teanu, the young Tzar I had met and helped during the flood, seemed quiet and uneasy when he took me around the mountain now. His previously lively energy had dulled, and I could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. It was as if the vibrant world around me was slipping into a muted haze, and I was left standing on the edge, unsure if I truly belonged here anymore. The isolation I once felt on Earth was creeping back in, and I feared that I was only ever going to be a transient in this place, never truly fitting in.

Then the nightmares started, vivid and gruesome. Each one dragged me back to that dark place, filled with chirps and the hum of electricity. Gray sores covered my skin, but it wasn’t mine; it was the sickly gray, leathery skin of my captors. The terrifying mouth of the fish-like captive next to me snapped its jaws in warning, each snap echoing in the cramped space like a countdown to my own doom. The wails of pain and sorrow echoed in my head, where the dim lights flickered like my fading hope. The stench of my own filth clung to the air, and I could feel the cold, thick metal collar digging into my shoulder as I tossed and turned, trying—and failing—to find sleep.

My body shivered as silent tears streamed down my face, a reminder of the helplessness that gnawed at me. I was starving, both in body and spirit. The Banties were back to get me, but no one was saving me this time. Each nightmare was a stark reminder that the past could still claw its way into my present, a relentless specter that whispered I would always be alone.

The air was thick with a stench of despair, and I could feel the icy grip of fear wrapping around my throat, choking any remnants of hope I had left. In those moments, I was trapped again, the line between reality and nightmare blurring as I struggled to wake up from this hell.

Khur did what he could, holding me close and purring deeply until I cried myself back to sleep or preventing me from hurting myself when the nightmares made me lash out in my sleep. But even his comforting presence didn’t seem to help me as much as I needed.

I stopped going on walks, ceased exploring Yelonder with Teanu, who honestly seemed relieved to be rid of me. Each day felt heavier than the last, the shadows of my past looming over me like a dark cloud, suffocating any flicker of joy or curiosity I once had. I could see the worry etched in Khur’s eyes, but I felt too broken to reassure him that I’d be okay. Instead, I retreated further into myself, convinced that my presence was a burden, and the thought of dragging anyone else down with me was unbearable.

I would have been long gone by now if I was one earth, but there was no feasible way to leave Yelonder unless I wanted to freeze to death. I told Khur I could move to a different nest, maybe somewhere where single Kohani stay temporarily, so that Kai could come home without being upset and he could get a good night’s sleep for the first time in a while, but he seemed to ruffle and grow angry at that suggestion, his fur rising slightly along his spine and even hissing lowly which he had never done to me before. So, I let that idea drop for fear of just making things worse.

Which seemed to be the only thing I was good at lately.

Barely a month of this dysfunctional limbo had passed before I’d finally had enough. The tension, the silence, the avoidance—it was suffocating, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. So I decided to search out Kai myself. Deep down, I knew where to find him. Zidrikai was not exactly elusive, and honestly, it wasn’t his absence that had stopped me before—it was my own cowardice. I’d convinced myself he didn’t want to see me, that I’d only make things worse if I showed up. The thought that my presence might worsen the situation had been enough to keep me away until now.

When I arrived at the entrance to his private office, I recognized the two guards stationed there. They were familiar faces from the work Khur, Teanu, and I had done together in the tunnels after the floods. Gaining access wasn’t difficult; they didn’t even hesitate to let me in. For a fleeting moment, I felt a small sense of relief. If Kai hated me as much as my anxious brain liked to whisper in the dead of night, surely, he would’ve left orders to bar me from seeing him. But here I was, unchallenged, stepping into his space.

The room was grand, a striking contrast to the rugged simplicity of the tunnels and caverns I’d grown used to. Thick, curtain-like silks draped the cave entrance, giving the room an almost regal air. The sharp scent of incense hung in the air—rich and spicy, like Kai himself. It fit him perfectly.

Three felines were gathered around his desk, their forms striking and imposing even from a distance. Their fur shone in the soft light filtering through the silks, and they held themselves with the same natural regality I’d come to associate with the Yelonda’s government figures. As I stepped fully into the room, their heads turned toward me, and I suddenly felt very small. My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to stand firm.

Kai was there, of course, and when his piercing gaze landed on me; I felt pinned in place. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity of it made my stomach churn. For a moment, no one spoke, and the silence was heavier than the atmosphere I’d been running from. I swallowed hard, realizing that this was it—no turning back now.

My heart skips like a stone on water as we stare at each other. Kai. It feels like forever since we’ve been face to face without the veil of avoidance between us. My emotions surge, a knot forming in my throat as I take in the sight of him. He looks the same—fierce and beautiful in that quiet, composed way he reserves for when he’s outside our nest—but there’s a distance about him, like he’s locked behind a door I can’t open.

I realize now, more than ever, how much I absolutely hate him being gone. The empty space he’s left in our nest feels vast, like a wound I can’t quite reach to heal. Without him, everything is off kilter. Khur does his best to keep things steady, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough without Kai.

And yet, as I stand here, all my fear and uncertainty bubble to the surface. What if he’s still angry? What if I make things worse just by showing up? The thought terrifies me, but the idea of doing nothing, of losing him entirely, is worse.

“Kai…” My voice comes out shaky, weaker than I’d intended. “Please, can we talk?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his sharp golden eyes locking onto mine with an unreadable intensity that feels both scrutinizing and exposing. After a moment, he waves his advisors away, dismissing them with a gesture before turning his attention to me in silence.

“Kai, we really need to talk,” I repeat, my voice wavering as my face burns with anxiety.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and unyielding, as Kai watches me with that same unreadable expression. I press on, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

“I… I hate this,” I admit, the words spilling out faster now. “I hate you being gone. I hate that things are so wrong between us. If it’s something I did—if it’s me—just tell me, and I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes, just… stop avoiding me.”

His expression flickers, a subtle shift I might’ve missed if I wasn’t so focused on him. He crosses his arms, the movement drawing my attention to his lithe, powerful frame, and I feel my anxiety spike. For a moment, I think he’s going to turn me away or worse just ignore me all together, but then he sighs, the tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly.

“It’s not about you fixing anything, Bennett,” he says, his voice low and measured through my translator. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”

“Then help me understand!” I plead, taking a step closer. “I don’t get it—I don’t get a lot of things about this place, about you and Khur, but I’m trying. I’m trying so hard, Kai. I just… I need you to tell me why we can’t just stay the way we are now. Why does it have to be so complicated?”

Kai remains silent, his golden eyes steady and piercing. The weight of his gaze is unbearable, as though I’m standing on the precipice of something far greater than I can comprehend, waiting for him to either pull me back or let me fall. Finally, he speaks, his voice calm but carrying the full authority of a king.

“What you don’t understand,” he begins, his voice steady and deliberate, each word carrying the weight of centuries of tradition, “is that this isn’t just about us. It’s about what it means to be Kohani, to build something unshakable. The vows are not mere words, Bennett. They are the foundation of our people, the core of our honor, and the only way we can create a future—a blessing granted by the Mother herself.

“A nesting clan without vows is nothing but a shadow—fragile and easily broken, scattered by the slightest wind. If you cannot see that, if you cannot embrace what it means, then you are not ready to stand by our side, let alone be part of us.”

His gaze remains unwavering, golden and piercing, as though daring me to challenge the weight of his words. The room feels impossibly still, his presence commanding every bit of air between us. “Nesting clans cannot accept new members without a vow,” Kai continues, his voice cold but resolute, “and by Kohani law, you cannot stay with us if you do not wish to be a part of our clan. It is not a choice—it is a matter of our very survival, our identity. To bind yourself to us is to accept all that we are, all that Khur and myself stand for. And if you cannot do that, then there is no place for you in our nest.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and final. The room feels colder, as though the space between us has grown impossibly vast. The distance isn’t just physical—it’s in the silence that stretches, thick with the weight of what he’s asking, what he’s saying.

His tone softens slightly, but the resolve remains unyielding. “You must decide, Bennett. Not for me, not for Khur, but for yourself. If you wish to stay, it must be with conviction, not hesitation.”

His tone hardens, the sharpness in his words matching the intensity of the fire that burns behind his golden eyes. “Anything less will destroy my clan, and I would rather shred you with these very claws than let your indecision hurt Khur.”

The threat hangs in the air, cold and clear, but it’s not just about violence. It’s the weight of the commitment he’s asking for—one that runs deeper than mere words or promises. It’s the kind of thing that, once broken, cannot be undone. I can see it in his eyes: the resolve, the ferocity of his loyalty for his people, for Khur, and for me, if I’m willing to embrace it.

The weight of his words presses down on me, suffocating, as though the very air in the room has turned dense with the gravity of what he’s saying. The finality in his voice is unmistakable—Kai isn’t just speaking from a place of personal frustration, but from his duty to something far greater than just the three of us.

The truth of it all hits me like a punch to the gut, but there’s no anger in what he says toward me, only truth. My chest tightens as I realize he’s right. I’ve been so caught up in wanting to make things right, to pull him back into our nest, that I haven’t stopped to think about what it means for me—what it means to really be with them, to embrace their world and their ways.

“I’m scared,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “Of screwing it all up. Of losing you. Of everything.”

Kai steps closer, his presence overwhelming in the stillness of the room. For the first time in what feels like ages, his hand brushes mine. The sharp claws—those very claws he just threatened to shred me with—graze feather-light across the back of my hand. It’s a small gesture, almost imperceptible, yet it carries the weight of everything between us.

I freeze, the moment hanging in the air, and for a fleeting second, I forget about the tension, the stakes, the vows. All I feel is the warmth of his touch, the reminder that even in his harshness, there’s something more—something I can’t quite grasp, but something that pulls me closer, nonetheless.

“Within the warmth of my clan,” Kai says, his voice rich with authority, each word imbued with the weight of centuries of tradition, “you would never need to fear again. No more uncertainty, no more doubt. You would be sheltered, cherished, and protected for the rest of your days. You would be ours. You would be mine.”

His gaze is unwavering, fierce with the certainty of a king who commands loyalty, not with force, but with the promise of belonging, of a future forged in unity. Every syllable is a vow in itself—one that could bind me in ways I can’t yet fully comprehend.

I swallow hard, his words sinking in, each one heavier than the last. I still feel so lost, so unsure of what this means, but standing here, feeling the warmth of his touch and the weight of his gaze, I know one thing for certain: I hated all those years I spent alone on Earth, with no one to turn to, no one to trust.

And I didn’t want to be alone anymore.

For once, I wanted something. Maybe this is what I’ve been searching for all along—something that doesn’t break, something that holds me steady, something that won’t let me run.

.18

KHUR

I was sharpening my blade when I heard him—small, stifled sobs that could only belong to one person. Bennett had returned to the nest, and from the sounds of it, the confrontation with Kai had gone about as well as I’d expected. I set the blade aside, my claws resting lightly against the stone edge, and stood.

Our little Rix was a disaster. His tear-streaked face and trembling shoulders betrayed everything he tried so hard to hide. Bennett was good at pretending to be strong, but I’d learned to see past that fragile façade. The way he held himself now—like a brittle twig about to snap—made my chest ache. I wasn’t used to this kind of helplessness. My instinct was to fix things, to keep the nest stable, but this? This was new.

Kai’s avoidance had pushed Bennett to this breaking point. My King, with his unrelenting pride, had been licking his wounds ever since Bennett rejected our vows. Hiding, sulking—it wasn’t like him, and yet here we were. A King with his tail tucked, and a human mate barely holding himself together.

“Little Rix,” I called softly, stepping into his line of sight. He didn’t flinch, but his shoulders stiffened as if bracing for something. “What happened?”

He glanced up at me, his face red and blotchy. “I—nothing. It’s fine.”

“Nothing doesn’t leave you like this,” I said firmly, but not unkindly. My claws twitched at my sides, itching to do something, to offer comfort in a way he would accept. “Talk to me.”

“I messed everything up,” he said, his voice cracking. “I—I thought… I don’t know. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t. He hates me. I know he does.”

“Kai doesn’t hate you,” I said quickly, but my own anger simmered under the surface. If my King had said or done something unforgivable, there would be consequences, vow or no vow. “What did he say?”

Bennett’s lip quivered as he fought to answer. I crossed the space between us and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Start at the beginning,” I said. “We’ll figure this out.”

As he began to recount the encounter, his words rushed and uneven, I felt my protective instincts sharpen. My clan was splintering, and I wouldn’t stand for it. Not for Kai’s pride, not for Bennett’s fear, not for anything. It was time to set things right.

But first, I had to calm my little Rix down. My tail, already twitching with nerves, wrapped fluidly around Bennett’s ankle, a grounding gesture meant to steady him. It was instinct—mine as much as his—and I let my body follow suit, weaving around his small, quivering frame. Gently, I lifted him into my arms, cradling him like something precious and fragile.

He didn’t resist, his face burying itself instinctively against the warmth of my scent glands beneath my jaw. It was as though his body already knew what it needed to find comfort, even when his mind couldn’t. I could feel the tension in him start to ease, the trembling subsiding slightly as my soft purrs rumbled through the space between us.

“Easy, Rix,” I murmured, my voice a low, soothing growl. “You’re safe here.”

Climbing up to our nest was second nature. My claws found purchase on the familiar stone ledge as I ascended with ease, even with Bennett clinging tightly to my front. His hands were fisted in the thick mane along my spine, holding on as though letting go might shatter him completely. My purring deepened, a steady rhythm meant to lull him, to remind him he wasn’t alone.

When we reached the nest, I eased him down onto the thick furs, still wrapped in my arms. His breaths were uneven, but his body was beginning to relax, the frantic energy giving way to something quieter, something manageable. I didn’t let go, not yet. He needed this closeness, and truth be told, so did I.

“Now, tell me what you and our silly Zar discussed,” I said softly, pressing my jaw lightly against his temple. “All will be well.”

My words were meant to comfort, but I could feel the weight of his emotions still pressing against us, heavy and tangible. Bennett’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away, letting me hold him close as his mind wrestled with whatever turmoil Kai had stirred in him.

I knew Kai well enough—his pride, his fierce love, his strength—but I also knew he was flawed, my mighty shadow King. I had seen him as a young cub struggling with himself, seen his tail curl with frustration when things didn’t go the way he wanted. It didn’t matter how strong or regal Kai had matured to be; he was still bound by the same insecurities and fears as anyone else, and he had a way of unintentionally passing that onto those closest to him.

Bennett’s fingers dug into my fur as he began to speak, his voice small and shaky at first. “I don’t know if I can… I’m not sure I can give you what you need, Khur. I’m not like you two. I’m not… I’m not strong enough for this. I don’t know if I can be what you want me to be.”

The words were a whisper, but the vulnerability in them cut deeper than any physical wound. I tightened my grip on him, my tail curling protectively around his legs, grounding him to me as I let his words sink in.

“Bennett,” I said gently, brushing my nose against his cheek, “you are everything we need. Not because you are like us, but because you are you. Do not think for a moment that you need to be someone else, not for Kai, not for me. We chose you, just as you are. The rest… we will figure out together.”

He shuddered against me, and I could feel the warmth of his body start to return, the coldness of doubt receding ever so slightly. I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, a promise more than a gesture.

Desire burned low in my gut, my scent thickening with the arousal coursing through me as I cradled Bennett close. My claws carefully threaded through his soft nest of curls, their texture a grounding sensation beneath my touch. He leaned into me, his trembling easing bit by bit as I brushed the tips of my fingers near his ear, a gentle tease meant to coax him out of his despair.

A small, unexpected laugh escaped his throat, breathy and fragile but real, and it sent a rush of warmth through my chest. My tail gave a flick of satisfaction as I held him tighter, nuzzling the crown of his head.

“There’s the sound I’ve missed,” I rumbled, my purr deepening as I let my lips brush against his temple.

“You’re tickling me,” Bennett huffed, his cheeks flushing a deep red as he squirmed against my chest.

The corner of my mouth tugged into a smirk, my fangs dimpling my bottom lip as I did so. His reaction was a welcome shift from the tears that had stained his face moments before. “Am I now?” I teased, my claws ghosting gently over his curls once more, just to watch him squirm a little more. “I thought I was simply comforting you, little Rix.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but the faint smile curling at his lips betrayed his irritation. My tail wrapped more securely around his ankle, anchoring him to me, a silent reassurance that he was safe.

“Careful, Bennett,” I said, the low rumble of my voice deliberately playful, though tinged with affection. “You wouldn’t want me to think you’re enjoying yourself too much, now, would you?”

“I do enjoy my time with you, though,” Bennett whispered softly, his voice barely audible. He nuzzled against the scent gland beneath my jaw once again, the warmth of his breath and the softness of his skin sending a ripple of satisfaction through me.

A deep purr rumbled from my chest, unbidden but impossible to suppress. Whether he understood the significance of scenting or not, I didn’t care to enlighten him. If Kai hadn’t told him, then I saw no reason to ruin the moment. Let him remain unaware of how bold it was to carry my scent so openly, a silent declaration that spoke louder than any words.

Instead, I reveled in it—the way his soft, human body leaned into mine, seeking comfort without hesitation. My fingers brushed through his curls again, slow and deliberate, as I inhaled deeply, committing his scent mingled with mine to memory.

“Good,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble. “You should enjoy your time with me, Bennett. You should feel safe here.”

The idea of anyone else catching a hint of my pheromones on him sent a flicker of possessiveness through me. It was improper, perhaps even reckless, to let him scent me or Kai so openly without the vows binding us. But selfishly, I didn’t care. I wanted him to smell of me always, to carry that mark wherever he went. A silent, undeniable claim.

“Your meant to be here,” I added softly, my tail tightening slightly as it works his way from his ankle up his though and to that soft warm place between his legs. “With me. With us.”

Bennett let out a long, deep breath, the sound heavy with desire. His head tipped back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat, and my chest tightened at the sight. Without realizing it, I shifted, moving to hover above him, my shadow falling across his small frame.

Whether Bennett was truly small for a human male, as he called himself, I didn’t know. But to a Kohani, he seemed impossibly tiny, fragile even, his delicate build dwarfed by my broad shoulders and towering frame. It struck me, as it always did, how easily I could envelop him—protect him, shield him, ruin him.

My gaze swept over him, his flushed cheeks, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly he seemed to fit against me, all that was missing was my other lovemate.

I pulled the thin, soft fabric of Bennetts coverings down and away from his hips, inhaling deeply as the warm musky scent of his arousal brushed against me. My mouth watered and I shifted his body up on our nest easily so that his pulsing hairless member brushed against my cheek. A soft moan left his lips at the feel, my little Rix extra sensitive as I took my time just taking in the sight of him.

The little noises of want that began to leak from his lips spurned my onward though and without another moment’s hesitation I took him deep into my mouth, careful of my fangs and his delicate skin. The soft pink head leaked a salty clean substance that tasted divine as I dined on his warm flesh, relishing in the noises that left my little Rix as he gripped my mane as though his life depended on this moment.

It was not long before my beautiful little love mate was gifting me with his release, and I drank it down willingly. Lavishing my long tongue across his soft twin sacks as I took him deep into my throat and swallowed heartily. Mewing noises soon began to leave his throat as his head grew too sensitive. I pulled away with a lewd slurp and a pop making my way up his body to take in the view of his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes.

He was beautiful like this, pliant and sated from his release beneath me, his usual sharp edges softened by exhaustion. When he shifted to bring me my own release, I stopped him easily, my claws combing gently through the unruly nest of his curls. A quiet hum escaped him as his eyelids fluttered, heavy with sleep.

His face, still puffy from earlier tears, held none of the anguish that had gripped him before. Now, there was only peace, a quiet satisfaction as he nestled closer, his breathing slowing with each passing moment.

“Rest now, little Rix,” I murmured, my voice low and soothing as I pressed a lingering touch of my jaw against his temple, my scent mingling with his one last time for the night. “Stress no more. Everything will be right soon.”

His fingers twitched lightly against my chest, as if trying to hold onto the weight of my words, before they stilled, his body surrendering to the pull of sleep. I remained where I was, unmoving, cradling him as the steady rhythm of his breaths filled the quiet space.

The soft rise and fall of his chest against mine brought a rare moment of peace.

Be it Kai’s stubborn pride or Bennett’s lingering fears—I would face it all. And I would fix it.

As the gentle cadence of Bennett’s breathing filled the nest, I stared out into the growing evening shadows beyond, my resolve hardening. Tomorrow, I would have words with our prideful King. Kai and I needed to confront this divide between himself and our little lovemate—no more hiding, no more avoiding.

The future of our nesting clan depended on it.

.19

BENNETT

I woke the next morning sweaty and slightly embarrassed. Khur was wrapped around me like a fur coat, his massive frame radiating warmth. My face still felt puffy from the tears I’d shed the day before. The heat in the alcove was sweltering, and I tried—unsuccessfully—to roll out of my big furry alien’s arms for some relief.

He purred deeply in his sleep, his ears twitching and tickling my face as he nuzzled even closer into my chest. A sleepy laugh escaped me despite myself, my nose scrunching at the sensation. The sound must have stirred him because, in a blink, the warrior was awake, yawning wide in a way that reminded me so much of a tomcat stretching after a long nap. His sharp fangs caught the soft morning light streaming into our nest, and I couldn’t help but watch, slightly mesmerized.

“Zyrran vel’kor thal’ixa, vae kythara lo’ryn,” Khur purred, his voice thick with drowsiness.

The words translated roughly to “The Creator smiles on you this day, and so do I.” It was one of Khur and Kai’s favorite greetings for me, and it never failed to make me smile.

That smile faltered, though, morphing into a frown as the thought of Kai missing from our mornings crept in. Where was he sleeping these days? Did he really not care about me anymore?

Khur rumbled deeply, the vibrations in his chest unmistakable. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know he’d sensed exactly where my thoughts had wandered—and he didn’t like it. My warrior was good like that: ever vigilant, ever understanding of my chaotic emotions.

Getting up felt pointless, and if it weren’t for Khur’s persistence, I doubted I’d have found the will to bathe, let alone climb down from the alcove. But of course, I didn’t really have much of a choice. Khur had decided we were both going to bathe and get ready for the day, no arguments allowed. His plan involved the steaming pool that flowed out of our cave and cascaded off the side of the mountain—a place I would’ve gladly avoided if I’d been left to my own devices.

And so, with his prodding and poking, I found myself reluctantly preparing to face the day ahead.

The waters felt amazing, their warmth sinking into my muscles and easing the tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying. Still, the slightly irrational fear of being pulled off the side of the cliff by the slow but steady current of the hot springs lingered in the back of my mind. The idea of that endless drop was daunting, no matter how improbable it was.

I rarely found myself alone while bathing—Khur or Kai usually stayed close—but the thought of venturing into the water without someone nearby to keep me from the ledge felt oddly terrifying now. The fear made no sense, yet it clung to me like the steam rising from the pool.

Once in, getting out felt almost impossible. The water was so soothing, like it was melting away the weight of the world. Once I found a spot I deemed a safe distance from the ledge and settled comfortably into Khur’s arms, the tension in my body gave way entirely. It was hard not to let my head lull against his chest, my eyelids drooping as the warmth lulled me into a light doze.

Khur let me rest, his steady breathing and low purr matching the hum of the water around us. The dual suns—the Creators, as he and Kai called them—peeked shyly into the room. Their light played through the mist rising from the springs, dancing off the snowflakes that drifted lazily into the cavern. The effect was magical, almost otherworldly, as though the cave itself glowed with quiet reverence for the moment.

For a brief time, I let myself feel weightless, cradled by the heat, Khur’s strength, and the soft embrace of this strange, beautiful world.

But as always, good things must come to an end. Khur, ever the practical one, wasted no time scrubbing us down with thorough efficiency before hauling me from the heated water. The chill of the air hit me instantly, and I let out an exaggerated groan of protest, but he was already toweling me off with his large, calloused hands. Before I could complain further, he tossed a fresh set of clothes over my head, muffling whatever indignant remark I was about to make.

I grumbled through the whole process, dragging my feet and scowling up at him. Khur, however, remained steadfast, his usual mix of patience and exasperation firmly intact.

“You’d let me stew in here all day if you really cared,” I muttered, tugging a tunic over my damp hair.

He snorted, unimpressed by my theatrics. “And you’d melt into a puddle of self-pity if I let you. Be thankful I care too much for that.”

Of course, Khur didn’t let me have my way. He rarely did. As he adjusted the furs around my shoulders, he leaned down, his golden gaze locking with mine, his tone soft but unyielding.

“Keep yourself busy,” he repeated, that infuriating blend of warmth and authority in his voice. “Or you’ll sink into sadness, little Rix. I won’t have that.”

I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I knew he was right. He always was.

Which is how I found myself clean, dressed, and trailing behind Teanu on his guard rounds, feeling more like a child being babysat than an actual contributor to anything remotely useful. Teanu, of course, was perfectly polite about it. He always was. If anyone could make this glorified babysitting duty feel less awkward, it was him.

The Kohani seemed to adore him. Every corner we turned, there were calls of greeting, shared bits of gossip, and even a few playful shoves on the shoulder from other warriors. Teanu took it all in stride, his warm laughter echoing through the tunnels like a balm. He seemed to embody every role at once: baby brother, uncle, confidant, and friend.

It almost made me bitter.

I’d never been great at making friends or earning people’s favor. That had started young, with my own mother, whose sharp words and absence lingered like old scars. Watching Teanu light up the dim tunnels with his easy charisma only made my shortcomings feel sharper. But then the bitterness melted into guilt.

Teanu didn’t deserve my misplaced resentment. His warmth wasn’t forced or manipulative; it was genuine. The easy way he walked, the comforting tone of his voice, and the effortless camaraderie he shared with everyone around him were qualities I couldn’t begrudge him. As we moved deeper into the tunnels, his chatter—about the recent snowfall, the odd behavior of one of the livestock herds, and a funny mishap involving a Kohani cub—began to chip away at my bad attitude.

I found myself smiling a little. Loosening up. Even laughing when Teanu mimicked Khur’s gruff reprimands with uncanny accuracy. For a moment, I forgot my discomfort, my fears, and my lingering sadness.

As the day wore on, the work was boringly straightforward—helping distribute supplies, delivering messages, and assisting with minor tasks. I didn’t mind it. Keeping busy, as Khur so smugly predicted, did help take the edge off my swirling thoughts about Kai. But as my feet began to ache and my energy waned, even Teanu’s sunny disposition couldn’t fully distract me.

Socializing had never been my strong suit, and the constant interaction was wearing me down. I’d managed to keep a barely-there smile on my face to appear semi-approachable, but it was becoming harder to maintain. I was the outsider here, and I didn’t want to give a bad first impression, yet the effort to seem friendly was draining.

So, when Teanu finally led us deeper into the older, less-traveled tunnels, I felt a flicker of relief. The steady stream of greetings and conversations from other Kohani faded, replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere. For the first time that day, I could breathe without feeling like I had to perform.

But that relief was short-lived.

The air in these tunnels was different—cooler, heavier. The light from the glowing stones embedded in the walls seemed dimmer, their usual warm hues replaced with a pale, sickly glow. My footsteps echoed faintly, and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling punctuated the eerie silence. The stone walls were rougher here, the light from the stones barely stretching far enough to illuminate the path ahead.

“This part of the tunnels doesn’t get much use,” Teanu explained, his voice quieter now. “But it’s good to check on them every so often. Keeps the mountain secure.”

Secure wasn’t the word I would’ve used. The deeper we went, the more the unease in my chest grew. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at first—just a feeling, like we weren’t alone.

Teanu slowed, his casual confidence giving way to a more cautious stance. His ears twitched, his tail sweeping low and deliberate behind him. I watched as his usually easygoing expression tightened, his golden eyes narrowing as he scanned the walls and floor.

“Something’s off,” he murmured, almost to himself.

I swallowed hard, my own instincts prickling at the shift in atmosphere. The worn stone walls around us bore marks—deep scratches and gouges that didn’t seem accidental. Supplies were strewn about in odd places, crates broken open and emptied, their contents shoved into shadowed corners, taken or destroyed . The tunnels looked abandoned, yet the faintest traces of movement—scuffs in the dust, half-erased tracks—hinted otherwise. Loose rubble that didn’t look like it had fallen naturally.

“What happened here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Teanu didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crouched near one of the scratches on the wall, his claws brushing over the marks. His usually warm and reassuring presence now felt guarded, his easy smile replaced with a grim line.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, standing and turning to face me. His tail flicked uneasily. “But this isn’t right. These tunnels haven’t been used in years. Whoever’s been here… they weren’t just passing through.”

The unease settled deeper in my chest. The faint chill in the air felt less like cold and more like the ghost of something lurking unseen, just out of reach.

“What do we do?” I asked, my voice sounding small against the oppressive quiet.

Teanu’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder, a gesture meant to be reassuring, though his eyes betrayed his concern. “We keep moving,” he said, his tone firm despite the tension in his frame. “But stay close, Bennett. And keep your eyes open.”

The tension in his voice made my stomach drop.

We moved farther down the tunnel, and the signs grew more troubling. The pale light ahead grew brighter, casting an eerie glow along the walls as the air turned sharper and colder. A breeze funneled toward us, carrying with it the unmistakable bite of the outdoors. I glanced at Teanu, silently asking if there was supposed to be an opening so deep into the mountain. The grim look he returned told me everything I needed to know—no, there weren’t any entrances marked this far from the rest of the Kohani.

We pressed onward, our steps slow and deliberate, the silence heavy between us. Every turn felt like it might reveal something waiting to spring at us, the weight of the unknown pressing down like a vice.

Finally, we came upon the source of the light.

A jagged portion of the wall had been crudely chipped away, exposing the skeletal remains of a support beam and the stark white of a snowy mountainside beyond. A howling storm raged through the gap, whipping my hair around my face and driving a chill deep into my bones. The tunnel itself seemed to tremble under the storm’s fury, the sound of the wind loud enough to drown out my own breathing.

Teanu stepped closer, running his hand along the damaged wall. His usually warm, steady expression darkened.

“This isn’t natural wear,” he said, almost to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind. “Someone’s been tampering with the tunnels.”

“Tampering?” I repeated, my voice rising despite the cold lump forming in my throat. “Why would anyone—”

“I don’t know,” Teanu cut in, standing straighter, his ears flattening slightly. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked genuinely unsettled. “But this isn’t random. Someone’s been working down here, and they don’t want to be seen.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the icy air ran down my spine. My gaze darted around the dimly lit tunnel, imagining shadows moving just out of sight, something—someone—lurking where we couldn’t see.

“What do we do?” I asked, my voice tight as I struggled to suppress the tremor in it.

Teanu hesitated, his tail flicking uneasily behind him. “We report this to the Zar and Second Claw immediately,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And until we know more, no one comes down here alone. Ever.”

The words sounded heavier to me because I could feel the unspoken weight behind them. The Zar, I knew, referred to the leader of the Kohani, the King in their culture—a figure both revered and respected. The sound of “Zar” and its association often came out as a low, melodic purring—Ssssarr’eth—a sound that always made the name feel both powerful and ancient. Many of the Kohani used this term to refer to Kai and his role as leader, often shortened in casual conversation to simply Zar.

The term easily translated to King within my mind thanks to the translator Khur had placed in my ear, but as I grew more comfortable with the Kohani language, I found many words interchanging in meaning when I heard them in conversation or passing. It was like understanding a cultural rhythm—context and tone giving subtle shifts to words, layering their meaning depending on the speaker and situation. It was fascinating but also dizzying at times, especially when trying to keep up with the steady flow of Kohani conversation or interpret unspoken intentions.

But the Second Claw was less familiar to me. The title had come up a few times during conversations, always spoken with the same reverence but little elaboration. I assumed it was a political role—one that gave its holder influence and power in the same way Khur wielded his strength both as a warrior and a trusted advisor. From the way Teanu spoke, Second Claw must have been as close to the Zar politically as Khur was personally, an extension of leadership and trust.

I glanced at Teanu, his steady steps pulling me back to the present. His expression was still strained, his sharp eyes scanning the path ahead as if he expected shadows to rise from the darkness at any moment.

My thoughts swirled with questions. What did this mean? What kind of danger were we looking at? The idea that someone or something had tampered with these tunnels—deliberately—sent my mind racing, but I forced myself to focus on keeping up with Teanu.

His words lingered in my head.

We report this to the Zar and Second Claw.

The wind’s howls faded as we moved farther from the gap, replaced by the soft echoes of our steps and the distant murmur of Kohani voices. But the tension in my chest refused to ease.

We’d stumbled onto something far bigger than a damaged wall or a drafty tunnel. And I felt the sharp edge of fear—not just for myself, but for everyone who called this place home.

What had we found down there? The signs of tampering, the unnervingly deliberate breach, the strange coldness… it felt like more than simple sabotage. It felt like a warning. A message. But from whom? Or what? My thoughts twisted and spiraled, the silence around us heavy and oppressive.

Teanu didn’t speak as we walked, his gaze steady but distant. His usual warmth felt strained, replaced by a cautious edge that sent my own unease skittering deeper into my bones. I wanted to ask him more—wanted to demand answers—but the words stuck in my throat. Something about his body language told me this wasn’t just about a few structural weaknesses or a random act of carelessness.

Once we reached the busier areas of Yelonder, it seemed everyone could tell by his demeanor that now was not the time to mess with him. Teanu was no longer a friend, but a warrior, and they let us be, almost growing silent as we hustled toward Kai’s study. I watched as Teanu’s tail swayed behind him, his sharp features cast in the hazy mists of the caves as he focused ahead. He seemed so sure of himself, so steady, but I could see it in his posture—the same tension I felt.

The halls grew brighter as we entered the main gathering areas, the warm glow of the Mother stones light reflecting off damp walls. Most Kohani paused their conversations as we passed, their greetings quiet and brief. Their expressions were subtle but clear—a mixture of respect and the unspoken understanding that something was wrong. There was no laughter here, only steady movement and whispers.

The closer we got to Kai’s study, the heavier the air felt. This part of the mountain was carved from stone but radiated authority, feeling like a tether to the strength of the Zar himself. My throat felt dry as I glanced at the shadows that clung to the corners, memories of what we’d found lingering in my mind.

Finally, we came upon the thick, curtain-like drapes and two guards I had seen only the day before. The sight of them was intimidating, and I knew that on the other side of those curtains lay a grand chamber—a vast space with a breathtaking view of the Eldrosi forest and walls adorned with vibrant, intricate carvings. The symbols etched into the stone twisted and interwove with representations of strength, The mother, Yelonder, and the Creators themselves, their ancient patterns glowing faintly in the dim light. The rich, spicy scent of the room drifted toward me, even here, and as Teanu nodded to one of the guards and ducked his head inside to inform Kai of our request for an audience, my breath caught in my throat.

“Enter,” came a deep voice from within.

.20

BENNETT

We stepped inside, and the air shifted. The study was warm compared to the tunnels, lit by the mother stones mixed with the gentle glow of crystals set into the walls that I only saw occasionally in more of the community tunnels. Kai sat at his desk, his sharp features focused on a map spread out before him. His dark fur caught the warm light almost making it appear brown though I knew it was almost raven black, and he looked up as soon as we entered. His piercing gaze seemed to ignore me on purpose and immediately locked on Teanu, and I felt the weight of expectation in the air.

“We’ve found something,” Teanu said, his voice steady despite the unease that lingered in his expression.

Kai’s brow furrowed as he set down the dagger-like tool he had been gripping between his claws like a pen, his full attention now on us. I had seen this tool before—dipped in dyes or inks and used to scrawl intricate symbols in a language I couldn’t read on parchment, stone, or wood. Sometimes, the Kohani bypassed the dagger-pen altogether, dipping their claws directly into ink to write. I found it mesmerizing, almost hypnotic, to watch the way they utilized every part of themselves with such fluidity and grace.

“What did you find?” Kai asked, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of concern.

Teanu hesitated, casting a glance at me. His expression hardened as he spoke again. “We found evidence that someone has been tampering with the tunnels. There’s a breach—intentionally made—and it leads into places far from the main areas of Yelonder.”

I watched as Kai’s golden eyes narrowed slightly. His hands rested on the table, fingers tense, and the weight of his words filled the room. The quiet that followed was brief, but it carried with it the promise of something dangerous.

“Tampering?” Kai said, his voice low and sharp.

Teanu nodded, his tone leaving no doubt. “It wasn’t random. The tunnels are being worked on deliberately, and it looks like whoever is responsible doesn’t want to be discovered.”

The room fell silent again, but this time the tension was far worse. Kai’s gaze moved to me for the first time, and I felt my throat tighten beneath his scrutiny. His voice was low, calm, but commanding, but still he did not address me.

“And you’re certain of this?”

My face heats and I hear Teanu reply but it seems far from me. “Yes,” He says. “We found a breach leading to the outside. The air was colder, and there were signs of deliberate digging and structural weakening. This wasn’t natural.”

The sharp tension in the air seemed to double at the young warriors words. Kai stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow as he walked toward the map. His sharp claws rested on the table as he stared at the depiction of ancient stone paths and twisting tunnels that wove like veins beneath the mountain.

“And you saw nothing else?” Kai asked, his voice measured.

Teanu looked at me, then back at Kai. “Only the signs of tampering. And we didn’t go far—there was a feeling. Something… wrong. We wanted to report this to you before investigating further.”

Kai’s gaze lingered on the map for a moment longer, his hand clenching slightly. “Very well,” he said finally. His voice was firm, sharp, but layered with authority. “This is something I’ll have to discuss with my Second Claw. If this is as serious as it sounds, we’ll need to act swiftly.”

I swallowed hard, trying not to let the unease show on my face, but it clawed at me relentlessly—the sharp edge of fear that hadn’t left since we’d found that gap in the tunnel. There was more happening here on this planet than I understood, and the thought scared me. Everything about this place felt vast, enigmatic, and beyond my grasp. There was so much I didn’t know, and that uncertainty gnawed at me.

Kai turned toward us, his golden gaze piercing and steady, commanding attention without effort. The room seemed to grow still under his scrutiny. The rich, spicy scent of him which seemed to engulf the entirety of the chamber, mingled with the faint tang of ink and the earthy tones of aged wood. Carvings of twisting symbols spiraled across the walls, depicting strength, stars, and the Eldrosi forest in vivid detail. Soft furs layered the stone floor, muffling our steps, and the faint glow of crystal lamps illuminated the room with a warm, ethereal light.

“Keep this quiet for now,” Kai said, his voice calm but weighted with authority. “Stay vigilant and fetch Khur for me.”

“Yes, Zar.” Teanu nodded, his posture straight and deliberate. I could feel the weight of Kai’s words settle over both of us, a gravity that made the air feel heavier.

“Go. Rest for now,” Kai added, his tone softening slightly. “You’ve done well to bring this to my attention.”

I had no desire to linger, and as Teanu and I turned to leave, Kai’s voice cut through the air.

“Not you, Bennett. You stay. You’re dismissed Teanu,” Kai added, and the way he emphasized the word made my heart thud painfully in my chest.

Teanu froze briefly, then glanced at me with a flicker of concern before nodding. “Yes, Zar,” he said again. “Thank you.”

Teanu left without further hesitation, his steps retreating down the hall. I stayed rooted in place, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. I hated how nervous I felt, how my pulse raced at the simple sound of Kai’s voice. I hadn’t felt this anxious around him since he and Khur had first brought me to their quarters on what I now knew was the Jaxelis Vex’ryn space station—the Jexis Maximus.

The silence stretched between us as Kai returned to his seat, his movements fluid yet deliberate. He didn’t speak, and I didn’t dare break the quiet. The weight of the ornate room pressed down on me, making me hyperaware of every breath I took. The polished stone walls seemed to amplify the tension, the intricate carvings casting faint, shifting shadows in the dimming light of the cavern.

I fidgeted with my fingers, my unease growing as the moments dragged on. I hated this disconnect between Kai and me. It felt like an invisible wall had sprung up, and I was left on the wrong side of it.

Kai leaned back slightly, his golden eyes studying me, sharp and unyielding. The quiet between us wasn’t empty—it was heavy, a deliberate pause that seemed to pull every thought and insecurity to the surface.

I shifted on my feet, waiting for Khur to arrive, uncertain of what Kai might say—or not say—in the meantime. The unknown loomed large in the silence, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was about to happen would shift things between us in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

When Khur finally arrived, silent and lethal, he was every bit the dutiful warrior—a stark contrast to the lover I often saw curled within our furs at night. It was hard to reconcile the two sides of him. In moments like these, he was all sharp edges and predatory grace, so far removed from the soft-spoken feline who kept me warm with his quiet affection.

Kai wasted no time breaking the heavy silence that had settled when it was just the two of us. But the words that came next left me almost at a loss.

“Care to explain to me why our nest mate was wandering through dangerous tunnels with only a single juvenile warrior as his guard?” Kai’s voice was a sharp growl, low but laced with fury. “What possessed you to think that was a good idea?”

The spice of his scent seemed to thicken in the air, twisting and curling with his irritation. I could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on us, tangible and oppressive.

Khur, ever calm and composed, met Kai’s fury with measured grace. “My Zar,” he began, his tone respectful yet steady, “we cannot keep Bennett confined to our nest all day, every day. He must have the liberty to learn his new home. I saw no harm in it. Yelonder is safe, and while Teanu is barely out of his cub cycles, he is a brave warrior. I trusted that no harm would come to the little Rix.”

“Yelonder is not safe!” Kai snarled, his golden eyes blazing with fury as he bared his teeth—a rare and startling display of anger directed at his Second Claw. “Those things slither through our tunnels unseen by our warriors! How has this gone unnoticed! How?”

Khur’s earthy scent clashed with Kai’s sharper, spiced aroma, their pheromones twisting and clawing in an invisible battle for dominance. Neither of them moved, their stillness electric, and the tension in the room felt like a taut string ready to snap.

“Yelonder has been in turmoil since the flooding,” Khur said, his voice steady despite the charged air. “It is no surprise that unused tunnels have been neglected, Zar. This situation can be rectified. The Dravokar have done no harm to our people in many moons. Let us not bicker but focus on what must be done to avoid any bloodshed.”

Kai let out a low snarl instead of a reply, his tail lashing sharply behind him. Without a word, he turned away from us and began pacing the expanse of the overlook in his chambers. The golden glow of his eyes caught in the carved walls and refracted across the room, his movements fluid and purposeful. His tail flicked and curled, an unmistakable sign of his simmering frustration.

The chambers themselves only heightened the intensity. The panoramic view of the Eldrosi forest beyond the carved stone arches was breathtaking, but the sight offered no solace in this moment. Despite the yawning snowy sky before us I did not feel any cold and the sharp, spiced tang of Kai’s scent mixed with Khur’s grounding earthiness, made the air so thick with emotion it was suffocating.

I stood frozen, caught between their clashing and the overwhelming weight of their emotions. The sheer power they both exuded seemed to press down on me, making it hard to find my voice. I realized belatedly that I had forgotten to defend myself in all this foolishness, the tension silencing any thought of speaking.

Kai stopped abruptly, turning to face Khur again, his piercing gaze cutting through the tension like a blade. “The Dravokar may not have spilled blood yet this cycle,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “but we cannot afford complacency. This nest, this clan, is my responsibility, and I will not see it threatened by neglect or misplaced trust. Bennett will no longer be allowed on these foolish walks with Teanu. They are not cubs who need playdates, and Bennett is not one of us. He does not need to learn our ways. He is a hu-man.”

The way that word—human—slipped between his fangs felt like a blow, sharper than I cared to admit. The sting of it, the disdain laced in his tone, stirred something in me. I felt the heat of anger rise, mixing with the ache of hurt, until the discomfort forced my voice to emerge.

“You’re right,” I said, my voice trembling at first but quickly gaining strength. “I am human, not Kohani, which means I don’t have to recognize you as my Zar. Which also means I don’t have to listen to you!” My voice rose as the words poured out, my emotions crashing through the dam I had been trying to hold back. “I was in no danger with Teanu! The tunnels were empty, and I enjoy learning about Yelonder. Even if you despise the idea of me becoming one of you, I don’t care!”

By the time I finished, I was shouting, my voice cracking and raw with the effort of holding back tears. Khur moved toward me, his expression unreadable, but Kai was faster. In a blur, his clawed hand gripped the back of my neck, his fingers tightening until his claws overlapped at the front of my throat. The ease with which he held me, the raw strength in his grasp, sent a jolt of fear racing through me that I hadn’t felt since those early days when my captivity was fresh.

His face was close, too close, his golden eyes flashing with an intensity that froze me in place. When he hissed, his voice was low, venomous, and unwavering. “As long as you walk the tunnels of Yelonder, you will obey, Bennett. I am Zar of this land, and you are nothing here. A weak, soft little creature, more helpless than a cub. I have been lenient thus far, but that ends here.”

The heat of his breath, the weight of his words, and the sheer power in his grip silenced me completely. My chest rose and fell rapidly, the defiance in me shriveling under the oppressive dominance of his presence. In that moment, I was acutely aware of the sharp edge of his claws, the strength coiled in his body, and the sting of his hateful words.

For many days, the silence between us had twisted and coiled, suffocating and oppressive, but now it seemed to hum, a high, buzzing note that resonated in my ears. All the emotions we’d buried—anger, fear, hurt—boiled to the surface, spilling over in a chaotic flood that felt both overwhelming and inevitable.

Kai’s scent enveloped me, heady and overpowering, pressing down like a storm ready to break. His golden eyes burned with a ferocity that seemed to reflect everything back at me—his rage, his frustration, and something deeper, rawer, that I couldn’t name. The growl that rumbled from his throat was low and guttural, vibrating through the tense air between us, and before I could fully process it, he moved.

Suddenly, his strong arms pulled me into him, the motion swift and unyielding. I let out a startled yelp, alarmed by the abruptness of it. My body went rigid, shock rooting me in place as his embrace tightened around me. His arms were thick and powerful, encircling me completely, holding me against the heat and strength of his chest.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as the weight of his presence consumed me entirely. The silence wasn’t silence anymore—it was alive, buzzing with every unspoken word, every unacknowledged emotion that hung between us like a thread stretched too tight.

He devoured me the moment I was within his grasp, his thick, rough tongue dragging across my neck and jaw with an intensity that bordered on pain. Each lap felt like he was trying to claim me, to erase the distance and tension that had wedged itself between us for so long.

The emotions inside me, raw and unrelenting, finally broke free. Tears spilled like floodwaters from a dam, hot and heavy, streaming down my cheeks as body-shaking sobs wracked me. But even that—my hurt and fear—Kai refused to let escape him. He licked the tears away, his purrs deep and resonant, vibrating through me and filling the room with a tangible, primal energy.

And his scent—God, his scent—it was intoxicating, wrapping around my mind like a drug. It clouded my thoughts, dulling the anger and betrayal I’d felt only moments before. Those emotions shattered, crumbling into something darker, something that made me want to weld our bodies into one.

My fingers began to ache with how hard I gripped him and my thighs trembled from exertion where they bracketed his hips. Hips that were grinding into me hard and fast, the thin silk like fabric of his warrior garps damp with precum, sweat and need.

The noises from my mouth were nothing, but nonsense and breathy moans. I wanted to be angry—to shove him away, to scream at him that he couldn’t treat me like this, that he had no right to speak to me with such cruelty. The words clawed at the edges of my mind, desperate to spill free, but nothing came out.

The fear was still there, sharp and raw, twisting inside me like a vice. I was terrified—of him, of the power he held over me, of the emotions he stirred that I wasn’t ready to face. But even that terror wasn’t enough to drive me away.

The want… it eclipsed everything else. It burned hotter than my fear, silenced my anger, and left me trembling in his grip. I couldn’t find it within myself to fight—not when every part of me betrayed that instinct, pulling me closer to him instead of pushing away.

So I didn’t resist. Instead, I let myself be consumed, surrendering to the weight of his touch, the heat of his breath, and the tangled storm of everything between us.

So when my own trousers slid down with his I had no protest in sight. I could only feel, want, need. Need. I need.

And then Khur was there, his fresh, earthy scent cutting through Kai’s blazing fire like a cooling balm. It didn’t extinguish the heat, not entirely, but it brought a fleeting sense of grounding to the chaos swirling around us. For a moment, I thought the presence of his steady, unshakable calm might bring an end to this tempest. But Khur didn’t step in to stop it.

Instead, his eyes met mine, sharp and calculating, and I froze under the weight of his gaze. There was something there, something unspoken—a readiness, an acceptance, as if this moment had been inevitable. Anticipation flickered in the depths of his expression, poised and waiting, and I couldn’t help but wonder…

Had he known? Could he have seen this coming, planned for it even? Or was this just another layer of the intricate, inscrutable bond they both seemed to share—one that I was only beginning to understand, yet was now inescapably caught within?

My mouth went wide, my neck like liquid, barely able to keep my head up as Khur’s enormously rough palm found Kai’s and my manhoods trapped between us and pumped once, twice, and then everything went white hot and my vision blanked out.

It was then I felt the breach of my entrance; I gasped and jumped, afraid as I felt Kai’s knuckle flex and press against the tight ring of muscles. My first instinct was to resist, to break free of this scary new thing and run. I mean what was I even doing? There was no way. This wasn’t me. This couldn’t be me. I wasn’t gay—at least, that’s what I’d always thought. I had never really had an interest in anyone let alone a man. But then, staring at the felines before me and feeling the undeniable pull between us, the thought twisted into something else. These weren’t men. They weren’t human at all. They were alien beings from a world far removed from everything I’d ever known.

So why did it matter?

Why did any of it matter when this was what I wanted? When they were what I wanted?

The thought was both freeing and terrifying, a truth I hadn’t been ready to face but couldn’t deny any longer. My body ached for their closeness, my mind reeled at the impossibility of it all, and yet, deep down, I knew. This was no longer a question of labels or definitions. It was about what I felt in this moment, what I craved with every fiber of my being.

So I let myself relax, the tension melting from my body as the deep, resonating purrs of my aliens surrounded me. The sound was intoxicating, warm and primal, leaving my muscles weak and pliant, as though I were melting under their combined presence. Before I realized it, my legs buckled, and I found myself falling back against Kai’s desk.

But I didn’t hit the cold, unyielding surface. Khur was there, always the steady foundation between us, catching me with practiced ease. His strong chest pressed firmly against my upper body, his arms an unwavering support.

The contrast between them was startling yet harmonious—Khur’s grounding presence steadied the firestorm that was Kai.

When Kai entered me moments later with no warning, I wanted to scream, in pain or pleasure I did not know; the intrusion felt like fire, my insides so full I could hardly breathe, but the hand that caressed my heaving chest grounded me, and the whisper of Khurs’s breath against my ear coaxing me to take deep breaths helped Kai settle himself fully within me until there was nothing left between us but skin and emotions.

Kai waited a long time to move again once he was fully seated within me, and I found myself going from pain to shock to impatience as my body lit with something I could not explain, and I clenched around his shaft. The smile he gave me before he began to move had his fangs dimpling his lips handsomely, but I was too distracted by Khur to comprehend Kai in all his beauty fully.

Khur’s fangs brushed against my skin as he rubbed his face aggressively against my own, teasing his tongue and claws across every available surface of skin, and Kai pumped into me with a hunger I was not prepared for. I felt small for the first time in my life as Kais’s long, thick fingers gripped just above my hips and almost encompassed my whole waist.

With this he brutally joined us over and over, his breath heaving as sweat made the black fur of his chest and abdomen shine. We did not last long like this before I was releasing for the second time across my chest, but it did not stay long as Khur surged forward to lick every last drop of me up. This seemed to send Kai into a frenzy, and a long, deep rumble left him as he pumped hard and fast within me; on his last thrust, he fell forward atop me and bit down hard at the junction of my neck, beckoning a scream from my lips. He stilled within me, then, his fangs deep within my skin, and our hips pressed tight together.

“It hurts! Kai! Khur, what’s happening? Khur?” I cried as I felt Kai’s member pulse and grow within my walls, stretching me past the point I thought was physically possible. His release was hot and thick and sealed tight within me as I wiggled and cried out beneath his large frame.

“Shhhhh,” Khur whispered as he caressed my sweaty forehead and damp curls, “All is well, little Rix; you have done so well.” He praised me as my body twitched and flexed around the bulge that had grown along Kai’s shaft. I felt my eyelids flutter against my will and watched dazed as Kai finally pulled his fangs from my skin and smiled a bloody, satisfied smile at Khur.

“It is your turn next, my warrior; are you ready?” Kai purred, almost seeming drunk on his pulsing release that still seemed to be pulsing within me.

Let him rest for a bit, my Zar,” Khur murmured, his deep voice a soothing balm to the storm that had just passed. “The Mother’s Fires will be upon him soon, and his vows will best be completed within the safety of our nest.”

Kai’s golden eyes softened, though his grip remained firm, as if he feared I might slip away. His tail flicked once before settling, the tension in his frame easing ever so slightly.

And so, with Khur’s steady presence at my back and Kai’s warmth pressing against me, I let my eyes flutter closed. Their scents enveloped me, grounding me in a way nothing else ever had. Together, they held me, and in that moment, I felt utterly, completely theirs.

.21

BENNETT

Once we started, it was like I couldn’t stop. This urge took over me, an itch deep in my belly that felt insatiable, a hunger that gnawed at me relentlessly. My thoughts were cloudy, hazy—like I was swimming through fog. The heat burned through me, my skin flushed, as if the fire was coming from within. The venom from Kai’s bite, or maybe it was the Mother’s Fires, had me tangled in a feverish haze, and nothing made sense.

Everything around me felt distant, muffled, like I was floating in a world half-formed, disconnected. I knew what I wanted, knew what I needed, but the more I gave in to it, the less control I had over my own body. My body was shaking, but I couldn’t stop myself. The burning sensation inside me only seemed to intensify, as if my very blood was alight with the desire to be closer to them. To give in, to be theirs.

But why did it feel so wrong, and yet so right? Why did it feel like I was losing myself in something I couldn’t understand, something I couldn’t fight against, no matter how hard I tried?

I recall at some point Khur biting me as well, and the fires within me seemed to renew, burning hotter, stretching that strange, fevered bliss into something endless. But the memory was hazy, lost somewhere in the long string of ecstasy that became my existence for the next week as I peaked over and over, harder and harder with every thrust, every graze of a claw, every lick and kiss as my alien warriors shared me like a meal they could no longer live without.

Days passed—seven, maybe more—before I finally surfaced from it, gasping as if I had been drowning, only to find myself still tangled in the warmth of them. It was only then that I realized neither of my nest mates had left my side, not once.

Later, I would wonder if Kai had duties to attend to, if the world beyond our nest had continued on without us. But in that moment, none of it mattered. The very thought of them not being near, not touching me, sent something sharp and panicked curling in my chest. It felt unnatural, wrong—like breathing without air.

My aliens woke slowly around me, their sleepy greetings coming in soft chirps and deep, rumbling purrs. I felt the warmth of their breath against my skin as they nuzzled into the tangled mess of my hair, their noses pressing lazily into my scalp.

Kai stretched first, his body shifting against mine, his claws flexing in the furs before he let out a low, satisfied hum. Khur followed without hesitation, his presence as natural as the air I breathed. He slept sprawled out on his stomach beside me, his strong, thick arms raised above his head, cushioning both our heads as we lay close. His powerful shoulders rolled in a languid stretch, muscles rippling beneath his fur. The soft, steady rumble of his purr vibrated through me, grounding me in the moment.

His tail, ever expressive, traced a slow, warm path along my side, the touch lingering just long enough to send a pleasant shiver down my spine. It was comforting—an unspoken reassurance that he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

I barely moved, caught somewhere between wakefulness and exhaustion, my body still heavy with the remnants of fever and pleasure. For now, I just listened, taking in their presence, their warmth, the way their scents curled around me like something protective, something safe.

It felt odd in a way, waking before them. Usually, it was Khur’s steady touch pulling me from sleep or the shift of furs as Kai slipped away to tend to his kingly duties. Rarely was I the first to stir, and I doubted it would happen again anytime soon. Their warmth pressed in on either side of me, grounding, intoxicating—but my body ached in ways I hadn’t expected, and the lingering stickiness of sex, sleep and sweat made my skin crawl.

I needed a shower. Desperately.

And maybe some of those sweet, berry-like fruits Teanu always seemed to have on hand during our walks. The thought alone made my stomach twist with hunger. But moving meant leaving the cocoon of furs and warmth that had been my entire world for—what? Days? A week? It all blurred together.

Still, I knew I couldn’t stay buried here forever.

The words come out clumsy, the rhythm of the greeting foreign on my tongue, but I fight past my shortcomings, trying to mimic the gentle reverence in their morning ritual. “Zyrran vel’kor thal’ixa, vae kythara lo’ryn,” I mumbled shyly into the cold morning air, half-embarrassed by my inability to do it justice.

Khur’s deep green eyes opened then, still slightly hazy with sleep but they softened with affection, the corners crinkling in a smile as he leaned on one elbow to loom over me. His catlike nose nudged against mine, warm and comforting, and I could hear the rumbling purr in his chest. “The Creator does smile this day, little Rix,” he purred back, the sound vibrating through my very core.

Kai’s troublesome tail flickered across my thigh again, teasing, playful—sliding between my legs with just enough pressure to make me shiver. He always woke up like this, full of mischief, testing boundaries even in the quiet moments. It was just who he was.

Khur, ever the responsible one, cuffed him lightly on the ear with a grumble. “Undisciplined cub,” he muttered, sounding exasperated but fond. He said it often, like a mother hen scolding an unruly chick—except he wasn’t just a scolder. He was a protector, a caretaker, a lover all rolled into one. In many ways, he was a mother to us both.

That thought settled in my chest, heavy and strange. No one had ever doted on me like Khur did. No one had ever taken care of me—not like this. It was terrifying in a way, but also… nice. Comforting. And honestly, what wasn’t scary about my life lately?

I wasn’t even in the same part of the galaxy anymore. I’d met more alien species than I cared to count, most of which I wasn’t exactly a fan of. I had somehow survived the Banties, an auction, and more near-death experiences than I wanted to admit. Maybe I should’ve been questioning everything—this strange life, this strange bond—but right now, wrapped up between them, I just let myself exist.

If it were up to the hungry look in Kai’s golden eyes, I had no doubt we’d already be tangled back up in the furs, lost in another round before the morning had even truly begun. And honestly? I wasn’t sure I would’ve resisted either.

But before I could find out, Khur cut in with a firm warning chuff, his tail flicking sharply against Kai’s nose in a silent command. Kai huffed in protest, but the spark in his gaze dimmed just enough to let me breathe. A small part of me was grateful for Khur’s interference, even if another part ached with the lingering heat of Kai’s attention.

Khur always knew when to steady us—though it hardly seemed like Kai needed help being strong and steady when he was in front of his people. Out there, he was every inch the ruler, sharp-edged and unshakable. But here? Here, it was different.

It was like a special side of him came alive in the quiet of our nest, one that relished the way Khur fussed over him, the way he was coddled and indulged. Not that Kai would ever admit it, of course. He’d sooner bite off his own tail than confess how much he leaned into Khur’s touch, how he melted under the weight of his affection.

But I saw it.

I saw the way his ears twitched just so when Khur preened them, how his tail curled like a contented feline when Khur ran a hand down his spine. It was in the way he always seemed to reach for Khur first when he woke, like instinct, like home.

Khur was gentle but efficient as he pulled me from the warmth of the furs, his strong hands guiding me with a familiarity that spoke of countless mornings spent in this routine. By now, he knew exactly what I needed—first thing in the morning, I would need to relieve myself, and then, without fail, I would crave a bath. The water, the soothing sensation of it against my skin, always made me feel better. I had explained to him many times that humans didn’t have a “hide,” but he still liked to call it that, joking that my “soft hide” was just as precious as any Kohani’s fur.

As I moved toward the bathing area a large glorious stream and pool that fell into the foggy winter sky, I expected to see Kai gone already, off tending to whatever duties he had as the Zar of this place. But to my surprise, he was still there, seated on the plush cushions by the entrance to the bathing space, his eyes sharp and unblinking, watching me with an intensity that seemed to go beyond mere observation.

His presence was unyielding, like a shadow that never left, a constant force that surrounded me. His tail flicked lazily over the stone beside him, but there was nothing idle about his gaze. It was weighted, heavy with something I couldn’t quite name. Possession, maybe. Or something deeper, something that made my skin prickle with awareness.

I hesitated, my steps slowing as I reached the edge of the pool. The steam curled thick in the crisp morning air, the water reflecting the pale glow of the rising suns. I wanted to slip in, to let the heat soothe my aching muscles, but Kai’s eyes never wavered.

“Kai,” I murmured, unsure whether I meant it as a greeting or a question.

He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes glinting like molten metal in the light. “You’re walking steady,” he said, voice rough with sleep but laced with satisfaction.

I frowned, confused for a moment before I realized—he’d been watching, waiting to see how I fared after the last several days. A strange mix of embarrassment and warmth coiled in my chest.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, sliding into the water, letting the heat rise around me.

Kai huffed, a soft sound that was neither agreement nor denial. “Good,” he said, but he didn’t look away. Didn’t move from his spot, like he was content just to stay and watch.

And for some reason, I let him.

Khur did not care much for morning bathing, but often took one with me, working quickly and efficiently to clean himself and begin his day. Today he was in no such rush, but went about slowly rubbing his strong fingers through his mane, massaging the thick strands with oils that scented the air with something deep and earthy. He didn’t preen under my stare, nor did he shy from it—Khur was always steady, always sure, as if he had no reason to second-guess his presence in my space.

It was comforting in a way.

I let my head tip back against the smooth stone edge of the pool, my body sinking further into the heat as I exhaled. My muscles unwound, tension melting away. The past week had been a haze of fever and instinct, but now, with the clarity that came with rest, I felt… different. Settled in a way I hadn’t before.

And the strangest part? It didn’t feel strange anymore.

It should have, probably. Should have sent me spiraling into some kind of existential crisis about how far I’d come from the person I used to be. The one who had lived a life on Earth, who had never even imagined other species, let alone being tangled up with two of them like this.

But now, here in this warm, steamy pool, with Khur’s steady presence beside me and Kai’s mischievous smirk across from me, it just felt… normal. As if this was always meant to be.

I exhaled slowly, letting the heat soak into my skin, easing the lingering soreness from the past week’s haze. My mind drifted to everything that had led me here—the trials, the terror, the sheer survival of it all. I should have been afraid. Should have been wary.

Instead, I felt safe.

Khur nudged me with his shoulder, his deep purr reverberating through the water. “You’re thinking too much again.”

I blinked up at him. “Am I?”

Khur chuckled, flicking his tail beneath the surface, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “You are.”

I huffed, rubbing a hand over my face. “It’s just… a lot.”

Khur hummed in agreement but didn’t press. He never did. He simply let me exist, let me breathe in my own time.

Kai still hadn’t moved from his perch, but his tail swayed slowly, his ears twitching every so often as he watched me. I could feel the weight of his attention like a tangible thing, pressing against my skin.

Khur flicked water in my direction then, breaking the moment, his deep chuckle vibrating through the air. “If you ogle me any harder, little Rix, I might start to wilt away.”

I scoffed, though my face warmed. “Maybe I just appreciate the view.”

Kai let out a low, amused growl from his spot, finally pushing to his feet with a stretch that made his muscles ripple beneath his dark fur. “Then you should appreciate properly,” he said, his grin all sharp teeth as he dropped the loose golden cloth he had drapped over his dark muscular body and stepped toward the water, his golden eyes glinting with mischief.

Khur sighed, but there was a knowing amusement in his expression as he reached for me, pulling me closer against him, his warmth a steady contrast to the steaming water. “Behave, Kai,” he rumbled.

Kai only smirked before slipping into the pool, his tail curling lazily around my thigh under the water. The moment of piece was gone though as he surged forward, splashing water at me, his laughter rich and teasing.I sputtered, glaring at him, but I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips.

Khur sighed heavily, shaking his head as if he were dealing with unruly cubs, but I didn’t miss the way his eyes softened at the sight of us.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered at Kai, swiping water from my face.

He only grinned wider, golden eyes glinting with mischief. “And yet, you squirm and moan so prettily under me little Rix”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words never came. Because… well I didn’t know what to say to that, or the burning in my cheeks.

Kai must have sensed my embarrassment because his smirk turned victorious, and he leaned in just a little closer. His tail, still curled around my thigh, gave a slow, deliberate squeeze.

Khur, ever the balance to our chaos, let out a low chuff of warning. “Enough. Let him breathe, Kai.”

Kai pouted dramatically but backed off, floating lazily in the water. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.”

“For now,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

Our bath ended sooner than I would have liked, and before I could protest, Khur had me wrapped in a thick, soft blue fabric, still damp from the water. He settled me onto a plush pile of cushions beside a short, round table laden with dried meats, fruits, and vegetables, courtesy of a kind servant.

My eyes lit up at the sight of the small, peanut-shaped fruits—sweet and irresistible. I reached for them eagerly, only for Khur to counter with a firm hand, placing two slabs of dried meat in front of me with a warning look. I sighed but took a bite, knowing better than to argue.

Across from me, Kai lounged unabashedly, bare as the day he was born, golden eyes watching us intently. Gone was the playful mischief from the bath. In its place was something more solemn, more weighted.

“There is something I must speak with you about, little Rix,” he said suddenly, his voice carrying the full weight of his authority.

I blinked, mid-bite, caught off guard by the shift in tone.

“I did not mean for ‘huu-man’ to be a bad thing,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “It is not that I do not wish for you to stay—I only did not want you to feel pressured, as if you must. We have chosen you, taken our vows with you, and welcomed you into this clan knowing you are different, knowing you are still learning our ways.”

He exhaled, ears twitching slightly. “Everything I said before was out of fear—for my lovemates, for our safety. If you do not recognize me as your Zar, then at the very least, you will respect me as the head of our nest clan. My orders are final and not without purpose, even when they are difficult to understand. Your ways are different from ours, but the vows have been spoken. You are one of us now. Others will look to you for guidance, for understanding, for wisdom. We cannot afford to be seen as weak, not when I fear we will soon have to face the threat in the tunnels.”

The room stilled, the warmth of the bath fading from my skin as I let his words settle over me. He had spoken from fear, not rejection or cruelty. Not hate. Not to belittle me.

I had spent so much of my life being unwanted, being forgotten—had I misread his caution for something harsher than it was?

I swallowed the bite of meat in my mouth, my appetite suddenly second to the tightness in my chest.

“Kai…” I hesitated, my thoughts tangled.

Khur, ever the steady presence, reached over, claws grazing the back of my hand in silent reassurance.

Kai waited, patient but expectant, those golden eyes pinned to me.

And so, I took a breath and spoke the only truth I knew.

“I want this. I want Khur and our nest. You are my Zar, and the leader of this nest, and—”

I felt my face grow hot as I fought through my shyness, pushing myself to say the words. “I’m not good at anything, but I want to be good at this. I was just scared before, but I wanted the vows, I really did, and I won’t disappoint you, I swear.”

The silence that followed felt thick, my heart pounding as I awaited their response, unsure if my words had been enough. But then, Kai’s golden eyes softened, and the intensity in the room eased just a fraction.

Khur’s steady presence was a grounding force as he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his gaze warm and unwavering.

“You are already more than we could ask for, little Rix,” Kai said, his voice low but filled with sincerity. “You are ours now, and we are yours. There is nothing to prove beyond what you’ve already given, but you must listen and learn and stay well for the wellness of this Nest. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” I said, and he smiled at me then, his expression full of pride, while Khur placed a lazy lick against my neck and ear in happiness.

I couldn’t help the happy laugh that left me then, and I almost felt like crying, but instead, I busied myself with my breakfast, sneaking bites of the yummy little fruits when I could, though a part of me was sure Khur had noticed and was just letting me get away with it.

As I chewed, a flicker of movement outside caught my eye—Khur’s sharp eyes darted to the opening of our alcove briefly, his body stiffening before he relaxed again, but I noticed the brief flicker of concern in his gaze.

“I sense another storm is on the horizon,” he said, his tone firm yet calm, carrying the weight of a ruler’s insight. “It would not surprise me if the chill deepens by nightfall.”

Then the distant sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance, and a messenger—a young warrior from a nearby patrol—appeared. His face was pale, his breath heavy, and his hands shook slightly as he spoke. , the eerie quiet of the shadows creeping closer. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I felt something shift in the air, a tension that wasn’t there moments ago.

“My Zar,” the messenger began, voice tight with urgency, “There has been an attack in the lower tunnels. A patrol was ambushed in the night. Both bodies were found… torn apart. It seems to be what we feared. The Dravokar have infiltrated Yelonder.”

The words hung in the air like a bitter frost, chilling the warmth of the room. My stomach dropped as the weight of the news settled in. The Dravokar—violent, nomadic creatures known for being scavengers and murderers of the wastelands and mountains outside of the Eldrosi Forest. Khur had said they rarely ventured within its depths, as the tall, thick trees blocked the Mother from warming their scales. I had pictured huge Godzilla-like creatures when Khur had been explaining them to me, but now I wondered: how large could they actually be if they were sneaking around our home, killing warriors and no one was the wiser?

Kai’s face darkened, the playful edge in his eyes vanishing as he stood slowly, his powerful presence filling the room.

“We’ll deal with this immediately,” he said, his voice sharp and commanding. “Prepare the Tzar. Khur, have Teanu take Bennett. Keep him safe; you know the place.”

Khur nodded, his body already shifting into that protective stance I knew all too well. “Wait, take me where?” I asked, suddenly scared. Why were we separating? Kai had just said we were a nest now, a team! I didn’t want to leave their sides, but neither of them replied.

Khur grabbed me up then, not even bothering to put clothes on me as he rushed with me in his arms, away from our alcove and from what had once been a peaceful morning. His steady, calm demeanor was the only thing keeping the chaos from overwhelming me, and I clung to it as if it was my only lifeline.

I didn’t know it yet, but that morning would be our last together for a while—it was the beginning of something darker, something far more dangerous. The storm had come, but not in the way we had expected. And now, with the Dravokar on the move, no one was safe.

The End.