†Chapter 4: Desires Outside the Cage†
†Chapter 4: Desires Outside the Cage†
BIJOUR—the fiercest, wildest, and strongest Muta ever discovered.
Filling its body with organ shredding hollow points did nothing to weaken its instincts. Primeval blood coursed through its veins, demanding it kill the creature responsible for harming it. Truly, Bijour were a force to be reckoned with.
BANG!
The Bijour froze with its gaping maw inches from Zelaide’s cervical vertebrae.
Zelaide wrested the lipless jaws away from his neck. Its sharp teeth cut through his tough leather gloves, piercing into the fingers he jammed into the soft pink flesh of its mouth. Blood ran down his arms.
“…Ngh!”
Deep gaping holes in his shoulder burned like hell. But letting it overpower him would lead to certain death.
“Graaaah…!”
Gripping the Bijour’s jaws, he painstakingly wrenched its mouth open. Blood and saliva poured from its maw. Voiceless cries of a creature with no vocal cords shook the lobby. The vibrations alone seemed to crack the air.
It blindly lashed out with its claws, tearing into Zelaide’s leather coat. If its arms were only a little longer, those claws would’ve dealt a lethal blow. But Zelaide gradually spread his arms apart, opening the Bijour’s mouth even further despite the claws and teeth sinking into his flesh.
SPLURT!
Gastric juices sputtered from the Bijour’s mouth and rained on Zelaide. His immaculate silver hair was dirtied beyond recognition.
With a crack not unlike cannon fire, the Bijour’s mouth ripped from top to bottom. Skin at the corners of its mouth tore and the broken jaw bone hung loosely from its muzzle.
“GHHH!”
Zelaide used every fiber of strength to shove off the Bijour crushing down on him. Though he managed to stand, the wounds covering his body were more than skin deep. His shoulder had been cleaved open, his fingers had been torn down to the bone, and cuts of various sizes and severity marred his arms, chest, and sides. Not a single finger had made it out of the Bijour’s razor maw without being bloodied. To top it off, he was drenched in the creature’s unpleasant smelling, oddly colored bodily fluids.
And yet, after all they had both been through, the Bijour still jumped back to its feet after being tossed off. Its jaws no longer worked, but its claws and legs were still in perfect shape. Eyes redder than the blood gushing out of it burned with hatred.
“I’m screwed.”
Zelaide’s gun had slid to the other side of the lobby. He could make a run for it, but it’d take too long to fire with his mangled fingers. The only weapon he had on him was the knife secured in his thigh holster. That also wouldn’t be easy to wield with his lack of grip.
But it was try or die.
Zelaide drew the knife from its holster, then extended some of the wire from his wrist and wrapped it tightly around his left hand so that the knife handle would stay in his palm. It acted like an improvised splint and only needed to work for a single attack.
The next attack would be the last.
The Bijour hunched in front of him knew that too. Its eyes were finally starting to glaze over.
The Bijour sank down on its haunches. This was the crouch that came before the death leap. Refined thigh muscles extended and then pulled in.
The Bijour jumped.
But the loss of blood and countless injuries reduced its jumping height significantly. Zelaide took advantage of that handicap.
He ran with his left hand raised, supporting it with his right to increase the strength of the attack, all the while avoiding the claws sweeping at him. His large knife sliced a straight line through the belly of the beast jumping over his head. His knife carved through the Bijour’s peritoneum, spilling its blood and internal organs across Zelaide’s back.
His whole body trembled with exhaustion. His head throbbed. His heartbeat rang in his ears.
Anyone who walked into the room would doubt it was once a pristine, white lobby. Three unmoving Bijours lay dead on the polished floors, their crimson scales shimmering in the slight light given off by the emergency signs.
The room was filled with the intense stench of blood and offal.
“Looks like you’re all done,” a lighthearted voice hummed down from the speakers.
Zelaide had already figured out that Murakami’s manner of speaking and choice of words was an act.
“Our system isn’t picking up any life signs from the three Bijours. I’m going to send in the medical relief team. Try not to move.”
“Don’t need it. I’ll leave on my own.”
“You all right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll unlock the door behind you then. Prepare yourself mentally to be washed down and patched up.”
“No need.”
“Too bad. This is my territory. You do as I say. Besides, it’s in your best interest. Got it?”
The large bulkhead in front of the door opened before Zelaide said anything. On the opposite side stood a grinning Murakami in his white lab coat. Behind him was the rescue team in white uniforms and men in blue work clothes waiting to clean up the lobby.
But the lot of them hesitated to enter the room. Shock and fear flashed across each face.
This man alone defeated three Bijours. That fact caused the humans to cower in fear.
This was what it meant to be a Beast Blood.
“Good work. I watched everything on the surveillance cameras. It was something else. An amazing fight. You worked hard,” Murakami praised Zelaide in an unchanged tone. His high-pitched voice didn’t sound any different whether it was over the speaker system or in person. But his round eyes expressed what he really thought on the inside.
“Come now, what are you all staring for? Not enough sleep? This man is severely injured. Patch him up before he bleeds out,” Murakami ordered the gaping rescue workers.
“No need. I’m goin’,” Zelaide gruffly refused.
Murakami grabbed his arm, not caring about the nasty smell and guts rubbing off on his white gloves.
“Nuh-uh. You can’t. Bites and scratches from animals don’t heal easily on their own. The bacteria are even worse from Mutas. Not even the toughest of Beast Bloods can defeat a bacterial infection. Bacteria are scary, you know? Do you want little bugs infesting your cuts? Besides, you can’t very well go get her looking like you just went through a meat grinder, now can you?”
Murakami was rattling on about baseless things unbefitting of a scientist again. Zelaide didn’t comprehend most of what came out of his mouth, but he did sniff out the one word that meant something to him.
“Go get her…? Explain.”
“I’m saying you should go pick up your princess once you don’t look like the walking dead. If you go the way you are now, she will surely be in tears. Do you want that?”
“……”
I don’t want that.
“See? We’ve reached an understanding then,” Murakami continued in a quiet voice, taking Zelaide’s silence and lack of expression as obedience. “This is my request packaged as an order. At least stay in my care until we plug up the holes in you. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re nice and pretty and in her arms soon enough.”
Murakami raised his hand, signaling the rescue team. They gathered around Zelaide, removed his bloodstained clothes, and began spraying him with antimicrobial wound cleanser. This was Zelaide’s first time being touched by so many humans. He was more comfortable fighting them than being cleaned by them, but he put up with the discomfort.
As expected, his whole upper body was maimed. His shoulder was in particularly bad shape after taking a direct hit from the Bijour’s claws. Numerous cuts across his skin revealed the muscle and tendons beneath. Blood was still seeping down his arm, but he could see it hardening to clot the wounds. Another inherent benefit of being a Beast Blood: they were very hard to put down in any permanent fashion without a deathblow being delivered. Zelaide grimaced more from the tantalizing smell of blood than the pain or sting of the antiseptics.
“Good boy. I know this isn’t what you want, but put up with it until tomorrow. Uhehehe. I can’t wait. I get to closely examine these muscles,” Murakami said, watching them wipe the blood off Zelaide’s corded muscles.
“…Until tomorrow?”
“Yep, that’s right. You’ll be in the intensive care unit I prepared for the rest of the day. Rest assured. I don’t look it, but I’m a doctor. Really. I have a medical license too. You and I will have a little chat while you’re in there. You don’t think I’m trustworthy? Aw, of course I’m not. But you just have to believe me anyway. You’ve got no other choice. After that, you’ll be temporarily set free.” Murakami blathered on with a smile that made his round face look rounder.
“…One day only,” Zelaide dourly acceded.
The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up. Feeling a gaze pricking his back, Zelaide hastily spun around. His instincts screamed that the weight of this gaze didn’t belong to any human. But all he saw was the rescue team and clean-up crew busily going about their work. Some were washing the floors, others were hauling away the Bijour corpses with a forklift, and there was even someone filming what was going on. Everyone was either dressed in blue work uniforms or lab coats, and they were all ordinary humans. The Bijours’ eyes were wide open since they didn’t have eyelids, but they were definitely dead.
So…what’s this feeling? Something’s not right…
Washed and disinfected, Zelaide bent down per the medic’s insistence. The medic hung a towel over his shoulders. Then they asked him to follow them. They were going to take him to the hospital located within Biotech. Shaking his head at the medic’s recommendation to ride in the hover cart, he walked alongside it instead, paying close attention to his surroundings. Murakami leisurely strolled behind him.
“Oh! Preserve the most intact Bijour as a research specimen. The other two are to be stuffed. Make sure you carefully preserve their innards. Please put the pieces back together as best you can. These Muta are expensive. Selling them might pay for the damages. Ah! Give me a scale. I want to use it on my keychain…”
“President Murakami.”
“Hm? Ooh, hi Kreutz. You came too, huh? Did you watch the surveillance footage? Wasn’t that a pretty epic fight?”
A man Zelaide recognized had called out to Murakami from behind. He was Euphemia’s direct superior Kreutz Burhardt. A shadow fell over his high-strung face when his eyes sized up Zelaide.
“I saw. You’re the Beast Blood hired to be Euphemia’s bodyguard, correct? What in the colonies happened to Mia? I haven’t heard anything from her after receiving the official time-off request form.”
“Ooh, her. Her older sister contacted me to say she will be taking custody of her for a while,” Murakami answered in Zelaide’s place.
Burhardt eyed his direct superior with suspicion. “Mayor Saionji contacted you? What happened?”
“Oh right, you backed her research, didn’t you? You’re such a good boss, meeting the demands of a young researcher hot off the press. But it seems she needs to take a break. I bet she angered her sister, which put this fella here out of a job. So I borrowed him today. Trust in me will plummet if it got out that Bijours escaped. I hope this gives me a small chance of keeping my job,” Murakami blabbed on as they walked.
Burhardt nodded along, his eyes fastened securely on Zelaide the whole way.
“Anyway, Kreutz, you won’t have her for a while. I know it will be hard with how busy you are, but I don’t have any spare researchers to send to your department right now.”
“……”
Murakami ignored Burhardt’s chilling eyes and started talking to Zelaide next. “With that said, don’t you rush out of here, either. Absolutely do not move until I say so. It’s not too far to the on-site hospital, but are you okay walking? Whoa! Would you look at that?! You’ve already stopped bleeding! Beast Bloods are awesome! You know, I’ve always thought that you guys are the next stage in evolution for humanity. And if you are…uhehehe…this could make for a good thesis… I might get even more famous…!”
“Yeah, yeah. You will. Now will ya shut up for a bit?” The exhausted Beast Blood’s tired, aching shoulders drooped.
†††
RAIN pelts the ground just before daybreak, cleansing the world at its darkest every single day. The flow of water blesses the earth with moisture and washes away any traces of the bloody hunts left by the beasts prowling the forests in the dead of night.
For humans, the rainfall becomes a silver curtain, concealing a criminal’s hidden crimes, an infant’s peaceful sleep, and a couple’s romantic tryst. And then, with the dawn’s light, the rains retreat. Such is the unbroken cycle, the never-changing promise between the heavens and the earth.
This is exactly why this world’s dawn is so incredibly beautiful—no matter what atrocities and absurdities will smear the day ahead.
†††
I want to see her. I need to see her.
Zelaide knew that nothing would change even if he saw her. They were better off never meeting again. He understood that so well it ate away at him.
Even so, his desire to be in her presence again was greater than any siren’s call.
Since thinking about her put him on the verge of going on a rampage, he had to push those thoughts to the back of his mind.
His car raced down the freeway, slipping between traffic with the skill of a professional racecar driver.
Rain pounded the Wilds as soon as the clouds rolled in. The heaviest downpour came at the start, pouring in sheets onto the ground dyed in impregnable darkness. It always ceased just before daybreak, and the ground dried back up by the afternoon. Until then, the whole planet was covered in a soaked veil of inky blackness. Rainclouds only circled the planet in the hours between night and morning. This was the one unbroken cycle on this ever-changing frontier.
In the distance, Zelaide could see Forzarin Gate, the symbol of Gothic City. Although it was hazy in the rain, Gothic City looked like a white sphere piercing the dark sky. The landscape was completely devoid of color.
Forzarin Gate was a barrier that allowed only registered vehicles into the city.
Passing through the many layers of defenses effortlessly, the automated system took over the car after he input his final destination. Zelaide watched his vehicle drive onto the Circle Line that surrounded the city in a massive ring, his thoughts drifting toward his wounds and the person he missed most.
†††
THE lacerations on his shoulder, sides, and fingers hadn’t healed yet, but the skin had sealed over enough to leave off the bandages.
Murakami had stitched up the gaping holes in his flesh, applied medicine to the smaller cuts, and then showed him to his car and told him to go home.
“The allegations against you have been dropped. I’m not crass, so I won’t ask why you leaked your semen in the breeding room. But be aware that someone collected that and used it against you. Someone who works in Biotech,” Murakami warned.
“I know. Who is it?” Zelaide asked in a low growl.
Murakami chuckled. “Can’t tell you that yet. They’re a sly little fox, so I don’t have any definite proof. It’s a confidential investigation that’s currently underway, but I’m practically the only detective on the case, you know? It’s a pity I haven’t made much progress.”
“……”
“In other words, I don’t trust anyone other than myself. Especially at Biotech. I mean, this institute is amazing. Too amazing.” Murakami pointed to the vast property visible through the parking garage window.
“A vast collection of scientific knowledge has been amassed within these walls. Including knowledge inherited from the old world. This place may be called Municipal Biotechnology Research Institute, but biotechnology only counts for a small portion of what we do here,” Murakami continued to explain.
“Not even I know the intimate details of all the research that goes on within these grounds. Many projects are astronomically outside my field of expertise. Of course, our operating capital comes from the cities, but that’s not our only source of income. We also accept requests from various companies and individuals in return for funding. So, it’s a fact that Biotech is also where the hopes and desires of this world are concentrated.”
“You manage the whole place by yourself?”
“Officially? Yes. But I don’t intervene in everything. I wouldn’t last a day if I put my fingers in every cookie jar. I only actively carry out the instructions I receive from the person who owns me.”
“And that’s someone I know.” Zelaide cracked a slight smile. It was rare for him to smile at all.
Murakami coolly dismissed it. “I don’t disclose sensitive information.”
“Is she your mate?” Zelaide asked.
“Don’t be absurd. There’s nothing like that between us. I just want to be of use to her. I seek no repayment in return.” Murakami’s small round eyes winked as he repeated, “No physical payment that is.”
His wink was met with silence.
“That’s why I’m going about it carefully instead of going off my first guess like I prefer to do. After all, I won’t be of use to that person if I just catch it by the tip and the lizard decides to cut off its tail.”
“You can’t just try your luck with your first guess?”
“Nuh-uh. No way. Being just a little off and catching someone lower on the rung will make everything fall apart. The true enemy on top will become even harder to catch.”
“But then you’ll know the guy who ran is the enemy leader, right?” Zelaide asked.
“All that will net us is the leader’s name. That doesn’t do us any good. There might be an even bigger fish behind him too. It won’t hurt the mastermind to feign innocence if we put the blame on his underlings. And then the threat to the city will be even worse. It’s still too soon to make a move.”
“……”
“You look dissatisfied,” Murakami observed.
“Obviously,” Zelaide huffed.
“Okay, just so you know, while charging in guns blazing looks cool and works great against Bijours, your opponent is a bigwig with a very high social standing. Their influence likely reaches beyond Gothic City. Not someone I can easily do anything to. But odds are high that they will give themselves away soon. Once they find out you’ve been acquitted, they’re going to fly into a rage. Your freedom is going to throw a wrench into their carefully weaved plot and shatter their tightly wound pride.”
“Am I being acquitted for exterminating the Bijours?” Zelaide asked.
“Nope. Taking out the Bijours is an extra treat to silence those who aren’t too happy about you getting released and want to complain about it. Well, not that it will shut up the gripers entirely, but that works just as well for us. Mayor Saionji’s enemies just might expose themselves depending on how the cards fall. But the reason for your acquittal is that semen.” Murakami squeezed one round eye in a painful wink and pointed at Zelaide’s crotch.
Obviously Zelaide scowled.
So it is my fault that Manuela died. I gave the enemy reason to kill her. Murakami said he covertly sent her son to Ajanta City to keep him safe. I’m worried about him, but it’ll only make things worse if I get involved.
“That being said, the semen collected from the victim and submitted as evidence undeniably belongs to you. There was too little to have come from sexual intercourse. It’s absolutely implausible for a huge Beast Blood man like you to ejaculate significantly less than the adult human male’s average amount,” Murakami said with a straight face.
“And I can prove you aren’t a special case in that regard because I have examined every inch of your body. That will be evidence in your favor. With that evidence, we can argue that someone collected your semen and injected it into the victim and scattered it around the room,” Murakami finished.
“Collected it… It was the peeping creep who was watching us…” Zelaide snarled.
“That would be him. The amount coincides with what would be left behind if your story about masturbating in the breeding room and cleaning up with paper towels is true. You can’t get much after it seeped into the paper and dried…and that’s all that they were able to collect from the victim.”
“Ah, I remember it being a soft and thick paper…” Zelaide muttered uncomfortably, accepting Murakami’s theory.
“Of course we only have the best! They’re disposable towels meant to be used in experiments. They soak up most liquids. What’s a little extra sticky liquid to our laboratory grade cleaning rags!”
“……”
“Yeah, well that’s something all right, masturbating in a rodent breeding room. Was it thrilling showing off to the rodents?”
“Shut up. You know why I did it.”
“Can’t say. But you sure know restraint. I was able to determine that you are still a young Beast Blood somewhere in your thirties from examining your teeth. That’s the age when humans are finally settling into adulthood… Also known as when they want to reproduce the most,” Murakami said suggestively.
“I hate women.”
Except for one. But I’m not tryin’ to have sex with her either. I just can’t keep my eyes off her…and sometimes I feel irresistible urges…
“But…am I really that young?” Zelaide asked, changing the topic. It was odd to be called young at thirty.
“You would never hear a human ask that. But I guess it makes sense when you don’t know much about your species. To be honest, I don’t know much about you guys either, but I brushed up by reading the findings of a certain scientist. Have you heard of Maurice DeLay? His primary field is Night Bloom research.”
“Like I’d know ’im. I don’t read… Wait, didn’t you say you’re a primate researcher at the station?”
“That was obviously a bluff. The ends justify the means, as they say. Didn’t you know that? Though it’s a fact that I have extensive knowledge about most living creatures.”
Zelaide was exasperated by Murakami’s shameless confession.
“In any event, you should learn a bit more about yourself. His name is Maurice DeLay. Read his paper,” Murakami advised.
“Don’t read.”
“That’s unfortunate. He lives in Romanesque City and has done a lot of research that could help you. Speaking of Maurice, he hasn’t done much lately. I wonder what happened.”
“How should I know? Okay, I’m leavin’. Thanks for your help. I might contact you again.”
Zelaide hopped into his car before Murakami could launch into another longwinded conversation.
Zelaide’s car smoothly accelerated as he stepped on the accelerator. The early dawn freeway made for a pleasant drive. But Zelaide had nowhere to go. He did have a temporary residence though.
What is Euphemia doing? Is she sleeping peacefully under her sister’s protection?
I want to see her. See her and peer into those mysterious emerald eyes. I’ll gaze into them and then…
And then?
Stupid brute. I won’t even get to see her.
The sun broke the horizon, shining white into the depths of night.
†††
THE silver car pulled into the familiar driveway.
This manor with a classic exterior was Zelaide’s current residence. The gate closed behind his car, all the sensors and defense systems activated, and the IHT panel in the car’s dash showed the rooms being scanned for biological activity. It showed one marker moving around inside.
Somebody’s inside. Who?
Doubt coursed through Zelaide for all of a second until he saw that marker speedily move from the second floor to the first, turn down the hall, and race to the entrance. Excitement tingled in his veins.
Only one person he knew moved like that.
Wilds take me. It’s like nothing’s changed… He cracked a wry smile, jumped out of the car, and raced to the porch fogged up by the rain. He made it there just as Euphemia burst through the front door, her face glowing.
At that moment, one bright color lit up his achromatic world.
“Zel!” Euphemia dashed out onto the porch, her untied golden tresses bouncing behind her, and leapt into the early morning downpour. By leaping she skipped the trouble of going down the steps. She didn’t doubt for a moment that the man running toward her would catch her.
“Hey! That’s dangerous!” Zelaide shouted, his heart dropping to his stomach that he might not catch her in time.
But a sweet aroma washed over him, filling his nostrils, and taking the words out of his mouth. His patience, which he’d barely maintained until that moment, dissipated the second he breathed in the honeyed scent emanating from Yumi.
The woman closing her eyes in his arms wanted him. Just as he wanted her.
“Welcome home!”
“…I’m home.” It took everything he had to say those two words.
Zelaide had never been told “Welcome home” before.
When he reflected back on this night, he couldn’t quite remember his reaction. All he remembered was scooping Euphemia into his arms as she twined her arms around his neck, running inside the house, kicking the door shut, and flying up the stairs faster than a Bijour. He vaguely recalled Tipsy circling over his head, joyfully yipping over his master’s return.
But those cries disappeared behind the door he kicked open.
The sweet scent drove him wild.
Zelaide’s room was mostly empty. There was a huge disparity between the empty room and the marvelous assortment of weapons lining the walls and hanging from the ceiling.
The echo of rain filled the room in place of furniture.
A bed with an exposed mattress sat in the center of the empty space. They fell onto the bed hugging. Neither wanted to part even an inch. Zelaide stole the lips Euphemia tilted up for him.
The Beast Blood had obtained his mate.
“Mmph!” Euphemia gasped for air, but the sound didn’t reach Zelaide.
He single-mindedly devoured her soft, pink lips. Zelaide drove his tongue between her parted lips and stroked hers.
This was a Beast Blood’s kiss—wild and instinctual.
Euphemia didn’t know how to react at first, but his passion was contagious, and she eagerly responded to it after the first kiss until she melted against him, a molten puddle of uselessness.
It continued to pour outside while they passionately welcomed each other in euphoric bliss after being separated for so long—they were once again in each other’s arms.
Zelaide’s long, disheveled hair cascaded over Euphemia’s cheeks. There was no time to breathe. She moaned as he pressed against her. His burly arms pulled her closer. She dipped her eyes lower, to the muscular expanse of his oaklike thighs.
His fingers traveled down to the hem of her loose, cotton dress and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion, exposing her skin to the cool night air.
“Zel—mm!”
She opened her mouth to talk but he sealed the words with a kiss.
Guiding her down onto the bed, Zelaide slid over her and laid claim to her mouth once more. They dueled with their tongues, thrusting and parrying.
Zelaide wondered what he needed to do to satisfy and fulfill her. Was there a method of loving that wouldn’t break what he cared for most? He breathed against the place where her pulse throbbed at her neck. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive flesh. His hand cupped her buttocks. She let out a breathy sigh.
Euphemia was panting so heavily her head was in a daze, but she thought she heard a belt being unbuckled. She thought of the complicated silver belt buckle he always wore.
He can undo that with one hand? Her thoughts went to something unrelated, but things were moving so fast, her mind had a hard time keeping up.
The man who was always calm around her and always tried not to touch her was now possessed by such passion he embraced her. A piece of her wondered why that was. But even if there was no deep meaning behind it, she was all right with that.
Because I love him.
He slipped the last piece of clothing off her.
Euphemia shivered with embarrassment, but she didn’t want to stop. Sure this wasn’t the result of a romantic date night, but it was exciting and what she wanted.
He’s finally looking at me.
Euphemia closed her eyes and reveled in the pain and bliss that came after.
They both believed in this blissful moment together and gave everything over.
Just this once. Please forgive me for loving you, Zelaide thought.
And, just like that, they became mates in body and soul.
†††
TO Euphemia, even if this was only a one-night stand, she didn’t have a single regret. Though she had no evidence to back it up, she was convinced that she was the first human woman Zelaide had ever slept with.
Euphemia took pride in that. And she hoped he would never again want for another woman, Beast Blood or human. She wanted to be the only woman for him for life.
That might be an unobtainable dream though.
In her eyes, the Beast Blood sleeping beside her looked incredibly youthful. She was young too, but his chiseled jawline, supple lips, stunning eyes, long eyelashes, and impeccable body were sure to attract all sorts of women over his much longer lifespan.
Why have so many left this handsome and innocent man alone? She wondered as her eyes lingered on his strong chest. But I don’t want them to look at him! I want to be the only woman Zel wants… The only person he sees.
“Why are you crying, Yumi?”
Euphemia’s eyes widened when his thick thumb rubbed her cheekbone. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. Silver glowing eyes searched her face.
“You woke up, Zel?”
“How could I not wake up when you’re cryin’? Did it hurt that bad…?” Zelaide reached out and rubbed her waist.
“No…it didn’t. That’s not it. You made me happy, Zel.”
“Happy? You cry when you’re happy?”
“I do. So make me cry some more, won’t you?” Euphemia’s emerald eyes wavered in the dull morning light.
“…Dammit!” Zelaide’s brows drew together before he wrapped his arm around Euphemia and rolled her on top of him. “Please don’t make that face… I don’t know what to do.”
“That’s simple. Please stay with me forever. Also…if it’s not too much to ask…I hope you won’t go out with other woman… I know I’m being selfish.”
“Go out? Go out with them where?” Zelaide asked, confused.
“Not like that. Going out with someone is human slang. Let me think of a better word…um…courtship? Dating? It means becoming a couple,” she tried to explain.
“A couple…coupled together… Like being mates?”
“Well…I guess you could put it that way,” Euphemia said, not really sure what being mates meant or entailed for Beast Bloods.
But I still can’t reveal that Yumi’s my mate yet. She’ll be in even greater danger if the enemy learns that she’s my lifeline. She sucks at lyin’, so it’s better if she doesn’t know. We have to let the world think we’re still just a client and bodyguard.
“Zel? Why are you scowling?”
Long white fingers trailed a path along Zelaide’s forehead.
“Do you regret it? Sleeping with me,” Euphemia asked softly.
“I do…and I don’t. That’s all I can say for now. But, Yumi, know this…I won’t go out with other women.”
“Really?” Euphemia peered down at the Beast Blood’s chiseled face from atop his broad, rock-solid chest. Two silver glowing eyes were transfixed on her face.
“Really. So don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look so pained.”
Zelaide put his big hand behind Euphemia’s head and pulled her in for another hot, passionate kiss.
Without thinking about anything else, Zelaide surged forward and made love with Euphemia after seeing her for the first time in over a week. He longed to see and feel her the entire time he was locked up. Every time he thought of her he couldn’t sleep and was tortured by longing. The torture he had experienced during the day was easier to handle than the yearning.
Memories of her vividly filled his mind during the night, eating away at his mind and body. He had heard stories of Beast Bloods who died after being separated from their mates, and he realized this was why after experiencing it himself.
But even the torture of being apart was still sweet. After all, he believed all his desires would go away after embracing her once.
Go away? Ha. I’ve only become a thousand times more attached.
Bitter regret gnawed away at Zelaide.
Euphemia was now imprinted on his every cell. Now he could never be the one to leave her. He wanted to always keep her close enough he could reach out and feel her warmth and breath. Go out with another woman? Absurd. He was forever hers and hers alone.
This is…what it means to have a mate…?
Zelaide embraced Euphemia as he recalled the ancient instincts and memories existing in his genetics. He buried his nose in the nape of her neck. The thick scent of his mate filled his nostrils.
Yumi is mine. I’m Yumi’s. I need to dedicate my all to her. I want to. My body, heart, mind, and life are hers.