Star Side

Chapter 32

The only exception to the rules for touch was for protection or needed assistance, such as with the wounded and sick. Even then it was encouraged that only the family and close soul friends do so, if possible.

So when he saw her begin to fall, he reacted without any restraint. Perhaps it had been dishonest since his alarm to save her from the hurt had been fed by the idea of such softness hitting the hard, sharp steps. Surely she would have been hurt.

Any leftover hesitation vanished when, in that fraction of a second, he also saw the dead-eyed male reach for her as well.

Frustration with the dead-eyed male had been building since he'd first laid eyes on him. His instincts roared against the competition, demanding he rent, fought, and killed as was proper when challenged so disrespectfully by another male. He'd ignored his instincts in favor of surviving in an unknown tribe and learning their ways.

But now, with her softness finally clenched against him, destroying his sanity and filling him with heavenly bliss, his instincts came forth in full force. He just had the mental capacity to dredge up what he knew of their language, though it was difficult past his elongated fangs.

"You. No. Touch."

The dead-eyed male's instincts responded in turn. The dark eyes narrowed and the narrow male pulled himself up to his full height, trying to look as big as possible. A strange, metal tool came from his belt. It smelled the same musky sweet as the thunder stick, so Gilrack already knew what it did.

He braced himself.

Then the female squirmed against his chest, cracking the shell between his thighs. He just managed to swallow down a groan, though to this day he can never be sure how. He'd never felt such softness or been so close to such a scent even in his wildest dreams.

"Stop it, both of you, good crap."

He struggled to understand her words, but only got 'stop it,' 'you,' and 'good.' But then she hit his shoulders hard, making her message all too clear. It didn't hurt at all, but violence radiating from her thoughts brought back his reasoning enough to let go of her and finally register his rising guilt.

Violence came naturally to males, even demanded of them. Females, however, were beings of babies. When they became violent, something in the world had gone awfully wrong and all should know terror. A female's violence was rare and most dangerous.

Her earthy, lash-lined eyes turned to the other male. Her brow furrowed and she frowned. She didn't raise her voice, but spoke lowly, making her all the more frightening, yet to Gilrack's surprise, the other male only scoffed.

Gilrack desperately wished he could understand all the words she spoke to the other. But what she inevitably said worked to make the dead-eyed male put away his weapon—wait, he had a name didn't he? Lee-veye. Yuck. Just thinking it was making him angry.

They seemed to work it out, however, as Lee-veye inevitably turned back and continued down the stairs, radiating mind waves of anger and frustration much like Gilrack's own.

She didn't gesture to Gilrack to follow. In fact, she didn't acknowledge him at all as Gilrack followed with his head lowered as far as it could go without tipping himself over. Feminine rage still pulsed in the air, so whatever was wrong in the world had yet to be fixed and Gilrack could not be settled.

Perhaps...perhaps turning his fangs on her fell divine being had enraged her. Perhaps that's why she had attacked him and not the other. He'd only gotten her words. Perhaps they had been comforting even.

That was the only conclusion Gilrack could come to, and it made him despair. Had he ruined all chances of wooing her? Sure he hadn't interacted friendly with the other male, and had even gotten close enough to threaten him at one point, so this shouldn't be new but she'd never seemed all too pleased then either. Perhaps this was the final straw?

Or, perhaps...it had been the touch. He had pulled her body flush against his, after all.

Both guilt and sublime pleasure washed over his being at the memory, making the cup over his nethers ache to be pulled back. It had gotten bad, lately. Before he only had to deal with swallowing back claiming venom, but ever since his wings came in his cup had grown and gotten loose. It would ache to open even when he didn't have to relieve himself, which had been awkward in his new nest in the garden of plants from the ground. There hadn't been enough dirt to fully cover his own stench, but he'd done his best to cover it up with dirt from other areas. It seemed rude to dirty the white and silver floors and walls of the bright cave.

It was almost as though he'd already claimed her. Though he had no recollection of ever biting her, nor did she bare any marks. Not to mention she still had that watery, virginal smell.

Perhaps this was yet more changes he'd have to get used to with his new hardened body.

Either or, it was clear she was displeased with him, so Gilrack stopped following her and retreated to his den. Thinking about bathroom duties made him busy himself with cleaning the place and tending the plants and dirt as best he could. He'd found a panel of sorts in the corner a few days ago and digging around it with his claws had broken it open. Inside he'd found strange white bags of dirt, to his relief. He pulled more of these out now and set to work building up the dirt around the little square openings in the floor where the plants grew. To his relief, it worked to dim down the scent of urine. Nothing was more disgusting than a den with waste in it, but he didn't have a proper restroom. He had to make due.

It made him ashamed to remember all the times the divine female had been in here to take care of him. Maybe he could bury himself in all this dirt and hide forever. Not only did he throw up claiming venom like a pubescent child, but he'd also subjected her to the stench of his waste in his den. Now he'd gone and earned her violent ire and touched her entire body. Perhaps he should just curl up and die. Better than then face the future where she kicked him out of heaven, alone and mutated and unable to return home with his chin held high.

No, he was strong. There had to be a way to fix this.

But that would involve facing her.

At length, he inevitably gave in and piled dirt onto his head, only to realize it would take much more dirt than he had to cover his large self, including the wings, so he had to settle with just covering his head and breathing slowly through a nose smashed into the floor.

It was like this that the chief divine being found him sometime later.

The tinkling sound of their bell-like laughter made jerk up, flinging dirt everywhere.

The little old female's black eyes formed crescent shapes from pulling back the corners of her mouth. In a way it made them shine more, and seem more life-like, despite their black coloring.

"Alright?" she asked.

It was kind of her to ask after his well-being, but he didn't feel up to scrambling for the words to tell her.

He bowed his head, letting his ears and wings droop.

She bobbed her head, her mind's touch emitting a soft understanding. She set what she'd been holding in front of him on a white plate—something sweet-smelling and bright.

"Cake," she said.

Cake, he found, was the most divine foodstuffs ever made. His tongue sang and his nose rejoiced. Everything about it was sweet. The divine maiden's scent, he decided, had to be some kind of cake.

It only took a few hours for his stomach to disagree with him.

Cake, he liked. Like him, though, the cake did not.

Good thing he had dirt.