Strange Love Read online

  As soon as the rankings were announced and the host dismissed the competitors, she limped toward Snaps, who—true to his word—didn’t budge until they got to him. Then he leapt out of the risers and into Beryl’s arms. She caught him and let him lick her face with all the delight of a dog who had been “separated” from his human for a while. That was the best damn thing about dogs. If she went to the bathroom for two minutes, he was so gleeful when she came out, like: It’s you, my favorite person!

  She nuzzled her face against the dog’s head until he calmed down. Thankfully, he didn’t pee in excitement anymore; he’d done that when she first got him.

  “How was it? Did you have fun, buddy?”

  “Exciting! But scary. I don’t like it when you have to fight.”

  “It’s not my preference either.” Since Beryl only had basic self-defense classes, taken years ago, she would’ve gotten owned by a Xolani doomsayer, if she’d drawn that match up.

  “Are you injured?” Zylar asked.

  Without letting her respond, he knelt to look at her leg. She’d twisted her ankle in the last match, and it hurt like a bitch. Seemed unlikely to be broken, and she couldn’t opt out of tomorrow’s finale due to injury, so she’d have to suck it up.

  “I’ll be fine,” she hedged.

  Apparently she was no better at lying than Zylar because he lifted her in one arm, just as he had when he abducted her. It was a deeply unsettling hold, though, and she grabbed onto his neck with her free arm, clutching Snaps with the other.

  “Uh, could you hold me in front of you? With both limbs?” She realized she was attempting to describe a bridal carry to an alien and stifled a laugh edged in nerves.

  “Like this?” With great care, he shifted her until her weight was better balanced and it was close to an over-the-threshold cuddle. It allowed her to snuggle Snaps against her chest, and the dog settled, exhausted by all that obedience.

  Effortlessly, Zylar moved through the crowd, who parted around him as they never had before. Confidence had bolstered his bearing, and clearly she wasn’t the only one taking note.

  Probably she should say something like, Put me down, I can walk, but the truth was, this felt great. Her ankle hurt, and there was no shame in taking help from someone she—

  Loved.

  Yeah. That.

  She was finally ready to use the word, at least in her own head. It was probably too soon to tell him, and they had to pass the Choosing, get approval from the Matriarch, and deal with Ryzven, but she couldn’t imagine her life without this precious partner anymore.

  Being abducted really is the best thing that ever happened to me.

  “You’re showing teeth,” Zylar said, his voice soft against her ear.

  “I’m…happy.” That wasn’t the whole truth, but close enough for their purposes.

  Once they got back to the apartment, she said, “Hi, Helix. Sorry I didn’t tell you where we were going this morning. That was rude.”

  “An acceptable oversight, but I hope you don’t make a habit of such behavior.”

  “I won’t.”

  Zylar deposited her carefully in the bed hammock. “Rest. I’ll take Snaps to play in the garden for a while, if that’s acceptable.”

  “Snaps?” She figured she should check with the dog.

  “Rest your paw. I’ll play with Zylar!” Snaps said.

  “Sounds good.” Feeling positively spoiled, she lay back. “I can get to know Helix while you’re gone. I’ll ask for all the embarrassing stories about you.”

  Zylar paused with Snaps at the door. “Embar­rassing…stories? Helix, don’t—”

  “Relax, I was joking,” she cut in.

  “I would not divulge shameful anecdotes regarding Zylar,” Helix said primly.

  This was one loyal AI—kind of sweet, really.

  She chatted a little with Helix, but sleep was the best medicine, short of actual medicine, and she drifted off, weary enough from the constant stress and uncertainty that she slept straight through without eating or drinking. Beryl regretted that the next day when she woke up parched and ravenous, but her ankle was better, at least.

  Just one more event. This is it.

  Resolutely, she picked Snaps up and herded him to the square to do his business, then she followed. This is still so weird. The little bot whirred out to sanitize the space after use.

  Zylar was moving slow this morning, so they ate in silence while she imagined the worries that must be whirling in his mind. She was heartily tired of presenting herself to the arena, but she walked in under her own power for the last time, sent Snaps to the stands—as he’d proven he was a good spectator—and then took Zylar’s claw as the rest of the contestants assembled around them.

  She waved slightly at Kurr with her other hand. Got a flutter of fronds back.

  “Welcome, friends! This is the grand finale. Today, intended and Chosen will face their greatest challenge yet. Behold, the beasts!”

  The workers wheeled in multiple cages, full of monsters the like of which exceeded even the scariest of Beryl’s nightmares. They were all different, just a mad snarl of fangs and claws. Without volition, she moved closer to Zylar.

  “Do we have to fight them?” she whispered.

  “I fear so. Not all of them, however. By my accounting, there is one opponent for each pair.”

  The host called the matches in random order, not according to their rankings. In round two, a larger, scarier Alien cousin stormed out and eviscerated the intended and chosen. The bots were still cleaning blood and gore when the announcer called for Zylar and Beryl. She trembled as she took her place in the center next to Zylar.

  I have no natural weapons.

  That was the catch of this last challenge. They had to prevail using only their bodies and their wits. The handlers freed the beast—a monster with spikes and a razor-sharp tail, kind of like a lion that had been crossed with a rhino, and then offered some augmentation.

  I’m going to die.

  “Stay behind me,” Zylar said grimly.

  Evidently, he shared her opinion regarding her slim survival chances. “Do we have to kill it to win?” If he’d answered that question already, she had been too distracted by the cages full of scary beasts to listen.

  “Kill or subdue.”

  She guessed he meant to the point that it couldn’t get up again. Kurr and Catyr had gone first, and Kurr had effortlessly used their fronds to restrain the monster, tightening until the creature lost consciousness, a quick and clean victory that left the audience shouting in appreciation.

  “I’ll try to stay out of trouble,” she said, as the rhino-lion charged.

  Terrifying animals could probably smell fear, so it ran right at her, trying to impale her on its shiny horn. This alien monster-unicorn wants to skewer me to death.

  Beryl dodged and rolled as Zylar went after the beast with his claws. No weapons, but at least he had talons and sharp teeth. She fell hard, injuring her already weak ankle. Shit. Not good. Not. Good.

  When she tried to stand, her leg buckled, and the beast whirled for another run.

  I’m done, Beryl thought.

  Then Snaps bounded out of the stands and onto the field.

  [ 18 ]

  Zylar had to kill this thing.

  He bore it no ill will, but it was an obstacle, and it was actively trying to destroy the person he valued most. As Beryl rolled away from its stomping limbs, he dove underneath the beast and drove his claws deep into the creature’s soft underbelly. Not quite enough—the monster roared and tore free, dark blood spattering Zylar and the ground around him.

  Wounded it, at least.

  Then he heard Snaps call, “Leave my human alone. Leave her alone!”

  The fur-person scampered up its spine, and then bit down on the back of its neck. Snaps seemed to lock his eating part and held on, though the damage he could inflict was minimal. The move gave Beryl time to crawl away, distracting the monster enough that it focused on tryi
ng to dislodge the little pest on its back.

  Beryl called, “Snaps, no! Stop. You have to get out of here.”

  Her fear was obvious, a sudden deluge of that sharp scent in the air, and her eyes were leaking, liquid running down her cheeks. But Zylar couldn’t waste the opportunity. This monster was much fiercer than anything they would normally be pitted against, even in the Choosing. He sensed Ryzven’s interference in this.

  He rolled forward and went at the beast’s belly again. This time, he thrust his entire limb up, twisted and pulled, and dislodged a wet burst of innards. Ignoring his natural revulsion, he kept yanking. No matter how strong this thing was, it had a damage threshold.

  The monster screamed, shuddered, and toppled sideways, lashing out wildly in its death throes. As it dropped, Snaps leapt clear and ran over to Beryl, sniffing at her and making high-pitched noises that the translator couldn’t interpret.

  “Success!” the host called. “Our third couple has bested their final challenge—” But then, he broke off, as if he’d been interrupted. “Er, this has never happened before. I’m receiving word that these results are being contested, as a third party joined the battle.”

  Zylar swore.

  Absolute terror edged his anger, because this might be a fault that Ryzven could exploit. While Snaps hadn’t inflicted much damage, he had provided a distraction. Beryl hadn’t landed a single blow, and that might diminish her value as a nest-guardian. Ryzven might persuade the Matriarch to disqualify them, and then—

  He would lose Beryl. Become a drone, unable to protect her. The pain nearly felled him. Tamping down those feelings, as nothing had been decided yet, he hurried to Beryl’s side and swung her up in the hold that she preferred. He carried her toward Kurr and Catyr, as they were the only pair to have survived the finale so far. Snaps trotted with him, and there seemed to be no point in asking the fur-person to return to his seat. The damage was done.

  The host continued, “These matters will need to be reviewed, and we can’t delay progress. Moving forward, I call our fourth intended and Chosen…”

  In a daze, he watched the rest of the contest. Beryl weighed so little that it didn’t even occur to him to put her down, until some while later, he noticed her tapping urgently on the side of his neck.

  “I can stand,” she whispered. “You must be tired.”

  He was, down to his bones, but not from holding his Terrible One. Indeed, he would rather not relinquish his hold on her, in case this was the last time. Yet it might alarm her if he said as much, so he quietly released her.

  She bent to rub Snaps, and when she raised her eyes, he saw that she already knew. Though he’d called her primitive at first, he now realized that her acuity was as sharp as a blade, accompanied by a rare attunement to his feelings.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, but the reassurance must not have sounded truthful.

  “Is everything ruined? Do I have to leave now?”

  Zylar noticed she didn’t mention participating in the next Choosing, and while he should want what was best for her—and he did—some small portion of his hearts rejoiced in such loyalty. Before Beryl, he had thought that anyone who Chose him would be good enough, but now, he couldn’t imagine sharing his life with another.

  With an airy sound, Beryl picked Snaps up to cuddle him and leaned some of her weight against Zylar. He couldn’t feel most of where she touched him, but knowing that she still trusted him enough to do that, though their time together might be limited, he could scarcely contain his contradictory impulses. Part of him wanted to carry her away, and to hell with the Choosing. They could run before the decision came down.

  He had Helix and his ship, as long as they got off-world before his assets were stripped. It would mean spending the rest of his life in exile, and they would no longer have the resources to rear offspring together, but perhaps—

  Yes, she was worth it.

  There was no need to run right this moment. If he bolted before the Choosing officially ended, it would alert the Council and they would anticipate his plans. Precipitous action might result in worse consequences.

  Be patient. Bide your time.

  There were no more fatalities in the competition. No more interference either. Zylar noted that none of the other battles were nearly so difficult or dangerous.

  At last, the host called the proceedings complete and added, “Final rankings and approvals will be announced in two days, after officials have tabulated composite scores and ruled on the disputed challenge. Congratulations if you made it this far. You stand among the worthy few!”

  The closing music started; Zylar had heard it so many times before. “Can you walk?” he asked.

  “Pick me up,” Beryl said. She seemed to be imitating Snaps, who hung a pink taster out his furry face in what looked like amusement.

  He churred, wondering how she could manage to make him feel light and peaceful, even now. No matter what happened in the Choosing, he wouldn’t let go of her. He did as she requested, cradling her against his thorax.

  But Kurr stopped him before he could head for the exit. “With your permission, I would visit your residence this evening.”

  “You’re the favorite. It might not be a good idea,” he warned.

  Kurr dismissed the objection with a flutter of fronds. “My status cannot be changed at this point, and I must speak with Beryl. I’ll bring Catyr so it seems like a social occasion.”

  This must be related to their revenge plans. While he didn’t necessarily want Beryl getting pulled deeper into that, it might not be a bad idea to hear what Kurr had to say. If they could hurt Ryzven and keep him from biasing the judges, that would help.

  “Please come. We would enjoy your company.” Zylar’s gaze slid past Kurr to Catyr, finding him hard to read.

  Does he know about Kurr’s plans?

  “Until then,” Kurr said, and then drifted away, all elegance and ethereal beauty.

  When Zylar turned, he caught Ryzven watching the Greenspirit. Is he truly that simple? He wants whatever he thinks he cannot have.

  Then his nest-mate noticed them and strode across the arena, wearing a sickly eager expression, membranes fluttering in excitement. In fact, Ryzven couldn’t manage his spines or his neck ruff; that was how out of control he was.

  “You’re being summoned before the elders to account for your disgraceful performance today,” Ryzven said.

  That wasn’t unexpected, but it galled him to hear it from Ryzven. Still, he kept his composure. “They wish to see us at once?”

  “You must be well-acquainted with failure by now.” Ryzven dropped his voice, low enough that only Zylar could hear. “I thought I might have to work to ruin you, but you delivered this weakness like a gift.”

  Beryl struggled a little in his hold, but he didn’t put her down until just before they reached the Council chambers. Then he set her on her feet. She was still holding Snaps, and she didn’t release him, even as they entered the opulent chamber, where the Matriarch was waiting for them. The whole room chilled and went silent, making each step ring louder.

  “That creature has defiled the most venerable of our customs. How do you excuse this debacle?” the Matriarch demanded.

  “I’m sorry. It’s my fault,” Beryl said. “I haven’t trained him well enough. He didn’t understand—”

  “Silence, primitive! I am speaking to Zylar of Kith B’alak, who brought you as his intended, against the better judgment of many elders, I might add. Speak, Zylar.”

  “I bear the blame. Any failings are mine. I will shoulder the consequences as well and abide by whatever decision the Council deems appropriate and just.”

  “They should be disqualified,” Ryzven said in an even tone.

  The elders probably had no idea how much he loathed Zylar…or coveted his Chosen.

  Glancing between them, the Matriarch appeared to come to some conclusion, though what that was, only she knew. “Reconvene in two days to learn of our decision. Dismissed.�
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  Nobody spoke until they got back to their quarters.

  Snaps said, in the saddest voice, imaginable, “I’m a very bad boy.”

  There was nothing sadder than a sad dog. Beryl burst into tears. She had been holding them in for hours, and there was just no restraining herself any longer. Zylar set her down in alarm, and she crumpled to the floor just inside the door.

  Lowering her head, she wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed. They wouldn’t even let me talk. And even if they had, they wouldn’t understand.

  Back home, there was an entire mythos supporting the absolute loyalty of dogs, good boys who would die for their humans. And had, in some cases. When she saw Snaps dart out to defend her, she’d never been so scared in her life, not even when Zylar first snatched her up while wearing that weird exo-suit.

  She couldn’t make these aliens grasp that it just wasn’t possible for a dog who loved someone to watch them being threatened without reacting. Not even an adorable, talking dog like Snaps.

  Stay couldn’t hold when she was about to be disemboweled by a monster-unicorn. But…he’d broken the rules, regardless of why. She’d just realized that she fucking loved Zylar, and they were so close, so damn close to being allowed to build a life together.

  Not now. Why now?

  She cried until her eyes hurt and her head ached. Neither Zylar nor Snaps seemed to know what to do. The dog was nuzzling her cheek, licking at her tears, and Zylar perched beside her, his limbs bent, claws gently stroking her hair.

  “They wouldn’t let me explain the wonder of dogs,” she sniffled. “And they wouldn’t understand, even if I did.”

  “I’m a bad boy,” Snaps said again.

  “You’re not.” She hugged him and rested her chin on top of his fuzzy head. “You’re a super-heroic boy. They just don’t know enough to appreciate you.”

  “Don’t give up yet.” Zylar didn’t pause in petting her, and really, she sort of understood why Snaps rolled over and showed her his belly, because she wanted more of this, all over her body.