The General ✔️ (Zolan Book 1)

18

Yippy is very confused. He recognizes me, but there's something in the air that keeps him alert. It must be the scent of The General— of War.

War... I don't like that name. It doesn't fit him, because although he's built for war, he's not as scary as he seems.

My stomach shrinks when I remember I'm supposed to have every inch of War pressed against me tonight. We're sharing the same bed; two completely different species, sexes, and statutes. I wonder if we'll be feeling different things, too.

"Oh, Yippy," I whisper as I lather his fur with soap. "I'm in trouble."

I can tell exactly when The General stepped out of the tent, because my shoulders drop with relief. Every atom in my body is in tune with his.

For the next few hours, I play fetch with Yippy and consider chickening out of my bravado. Maybe The General won't laugh at me when I admit that the mere thought of sleeping beside him makes me twists me up. Is it too late to back out?

Confusing, overwhelming, poisoned desire swirls in me. I know first-hand how sexualy uncompatible I am with The General, but the memory of the pain shrinks with every kind gesture he makes. A sick flame in me wants to be doused by his semen again.

The General was made to fuck and kill. Whichever god designed him must've not cared about which female he fucks— Zolano, or Human. My body wants to put the theory to the test a second time.

My lust is creating a mess— not only between my thighs, but in my head. How is it possible to fear a male, even to a small degree, but still want to have them agaisnt me? It must be his alluring strength. I've been helpless and weak for so long that I want him to shove some of his power into me.

Playing with Yippy only keeps me entertained for a while. I appreciate having him around, but I still miss being outside. Beside everything I've gone through in this camp, we're still at war and I want our side to win. I can't contribute if I'm sitting around and only worrying about sleeping beside The General.

The other servants must be drowning in work. I can't sit around for an entire month.

The cramps in my stomach intensify the darker it gets. The General didn't visit me throughout the day like he usually does. Is he trying to build up the suspense? Because it's working. My fingers have become as fidgety as Yippy's snout.

After I feed him some tidbits of fruit, I bring him to the cot I made for myself. I know better than to tie him up. He's a free spirit, not a pet, and I know he'll return even if he goes missing for a few days.

"Wish me luck," I whisper, and stroke his clean fur a final time.

I tuck myself into The General's bed. It's evening, and it's humid, but I still bring a blanket under my chin. I'm sweating within minutes, but I need barriers between that man and I.

The knots in my belly migrate to my throat and strangle me. Breathing is becoming harder. Who knew nervousness could be deadly?

I hear movement at the entrance.

"I ended practice early today. The men needed a break. So do I."

So I'm his break? His entertainment? His stress-loss?

I pretend to be asleep. Maybe I can get through this in silence. When the platform dips and I inch closer to him, my breathing becomes so ragged that I blow my little act out of the water. He knows I'm awake. Of course he does. He can spot an enemy fifty yards away.

"Why are you so tense?"

He slips a hand under my blanket and rubs an enormous palm up and down the small of my back.