Surviving Skarr

And I like what I see so far.

Vivian is commendable. I did not notice her at first because she was not as brilliantly colored as some of the others. Her hair is a soft, gentle brown and her skin an unremarkable shade of pale beige. Her breasts do not bounce as openly as some of the others, nor is her backside as heavily rounded. She is slender but strong, and she is tall. She might not have the brilliant plumage of some of the others, but it is a clever disguise, I think, to allow her to be stealthy. To blend in amongst the others and hide in plain sight. I approve of this. I do not need jiggling mammaries to see her worth…

…though I admit I would not mind if hers jiggled. Just a little.

No, Vivian is not flashy. She is the silent, stealthy predator, and I have great respect for this. She speaks very little as we travel, preferring to remain quiet. I suspect she is taking in all that the others speak of so she can use it against them.

Information gathering—a wise strategy.

Vivian also gathers dung chips as the group walks, placing them into a pack. No one else does this, but when Flor—I’rec’s a

Again, I approve of this strategy. She is quietly making herself invaluable to the others. No one will see it coming when she strikes. It’s a different strategy than what I use—making myself so fearfully impressive that they do not dare challenge me—but I have to admit that it is extremely effective.

I watch her as we travel, impressed at her calculating mind, and I come around on her coloring and appearance, too. I thought perhaps she was choosing a bland appearance, but I was wrong. The more I look at her, the more striking she becomes. Her mane is the perfect, glossy mix of yellow and brown. Why be one when you can be both and be both exceedingly well? Her eyes are bright and her face is symmetrical and pleasing, her mouth pink and soft. Her legs are strong and long and I watch her walk.

Granted, she is always walking away from me, but that is easily solved.

“What is it?”

I’rec has come up behind me, glaring at me.

“What is what?” I ask.

“You are slowing. Is the cold too much for you? Do I need to carry you?”

I scoff, offended. “You mistake me. I am not ailing. I am merely contemplating.”

His expression grows wary. “And what is it you contemplate?”

I stroke my chin. “How to lure my mate into my grasp. I am thinking, perhaps, some sort of trap. It is clear she is too skittish to approach directly.”

I’rec starts to shake his head before I even finish speaking. “Bad idea. Very bad idea. Humans do not take kindly to being trapped.”

“Then what is your suggestion?” I ask, irritated.

He thinks for a moment. “Presents.”

“Presence?” I consider this. “My presence is already awe-inspiring. Or do you mean I should fight again?”

I’rec raises a hand. “No. Presents. Gifts.”

Gifts? Shower her with trophies as if she has won something? She has won me and is acting sour about it. “Bah. Reward her for withholding herself from me? I think not.”

“You are going about this all wrong,” I’rec tells me as we walk. “I realize you still think like a tater, but you are a tater no longer. Now you must think like a tribe hunter. She is not a thing to conquer. She is your partner.”

A partner? Vivian? I laugh in his face at the very thought. “I would lose any match for certain if she was my partner. She is strong and agile and clever, but she is still a female.”

I’rec throws his hands in the air, shaking his head at me. “You are a lost cause. I have tried. Do not come crawling to me if she tries to kill you in your sleep.”

I actually find that thought arousing. Of my female in bed next to me, grabbing a weapon and looking at me with bloodlust in her gaze…hmm. I like that idea a lot. She will not succeed, of course, but the trying will be quite enticing. “You are not much help anyhow.”

I’rec scoffs and then pauses. “A’tar.”

“Eh?”

“The dragon. A’tar. You should talk to him when we return. He was a tater as well. Perhaps he will have advice for you on how to woo your female.”

I sneer at him, walking on and considering plans for capturing Vivian. I need no help from anyone. I need no gifts to bait my snare. I will entrap my female all on my own.

Chapter Ten

VIVI

“Oh lord, they just keep going,” someone whispers.

Another person giggles, and then we hear Flor moaning. It’s nighttime, and we just crawled into the tent to sleep. It’s like the moment they were alone, Flor and I’rec were all over each other, and we get to hear everything. Every gasp, every wet slap of skin, everything.

I should be horrified that we can hear them having sex, we can hear Flor demanding that I’rec lick her harder, that we’re all hideously aware of everything they’re doing. Instead, it makes me throb between my thighs because of resonance. Even thinking about how much I loathe Skarr doesn’t make the needy pulsing go away, and that’s incredibly disturbing. Flor says that resonance will push me toward him at some point unless I get it turned off, but the turn-off is worse than the resonance.

Right now I don’t know that I believe that. Because Flor and I’rec clearly adore each other. They have no problems sharing a bed or their lives. They were friends, she said, before resonance hit.

And I’rec is nothing at all like Skarr. Skarr is like…the shittiest personality traits rolled up into one lizardguy with long, pettably soft curls.

And then I get mad at myself for thinking his curls are pettable. Ugh. I pull the blankets over my head.

“Good idea,” says Colleen, who’s at my side.

Flor starts moaning even louder, and another woman in the tent groans. “How are we supposed to sleep?”

“Maybe they’re exhibitionists,” says Sabrina, her voice cheerful even in a whisper. “We shouldn’t judge.”

“If I can hear you eating someone out, I’m going to judge,” Gabriella retorts.

“Go to sleep,” another person whispers, and things quiet down.

Maybe it’s just me, but I actually sleep pretty well that next night. We’ve got furs to block the cold from the ground, and the tent keeps out the wind. I sleep pressed between Dawn and Colleen and we share a blanket, and it reminds me of…something. I chase that something feeling all night but it never materializes into a memory.

I wake up and pull on my boots, then head for the fire. I actually really enjoy tending to the fire. It’s comforting for me, something I remember doing even when I don’t remember my own name. It’s become a bit of a game, too, to keep the coals burning bright while trying to use as little fuel as possible.

A few others are seated by the fire this early. Two of them are the guys—the human one and the big grayish-blue one that’s from a race called a “moden.” His name is Kyth, and he seems more relaxed than some of the other men—other gladiators—we were dropped here with. Sabrina is awake, too, and she’s peering into Kyth’s eye with distress.

“No glow,” she says. “Are you sure you feel all right?”

Kyth shrugs. “Just tired.”

“And you didn’t feel it fade? Or die? Or anything?” When he shakes his head, she purses her lips. “Maybe it’s hibernating.” She glances around, looking over at me. “Vivi, let me see your eyes real fast.”

I resist my natural urge to shrink away and hide from attention, because now everyone’s looking at me. But Sabrina has been nice and friendly, so I force myself to take a step forward and let her peer into my eyes.

“No, hers are still glowing just as bright as Jason’s,” Sabrina frets. “Maybe you got a faulty one, Kyth.”