"Your attendance surprises me, General. After such a dramatic exit last meeting, I had assumed you would send your regards instead."
Kincaid didn't rise to the bait his brother dangled. A loss of control was not common for the General and while his previous outburst was shocking, most had dismissed it as a side effect of the new bond. It was excused after confirming he'd been forced into Rut following his mate's cycle. Despite this, Kincaid did not like what this bond was doing to him. A male in his position could not afford that slackening grip. There was too much at stake.
Tension threatened to hunch his shoulders, but he remained composed, keeping even his morá calmed, something that not many were capable of achieving, even in advanced age.
Talent and power were two things Kincaid was no stranger to. Even if most of the time they were a burden he did not wish to bear.
"I take it your mate has been bred then?" Bodric continued, leveling his gaze on his brother and interrupting whatever update Councilman Doleha was giving.
Kincaid wiped every emotion from his face and instead replaced them with a mask of cool indifference.
"I have not."
The room fell silent.
Bodric leaned forward, claws fisting the armrests as he fixed his intensity on the General.
"You are playing with fire, General. If you have grown too burdened by your lesser duties, perhaps we may lighten them? So that you may re-evaluate your priorities."
Kincaid saw the warning for what it was. Not that he was surprised. Being King sharpened his talons in a way Kincaid never had the stomach for.
When the General still didn't rise to the provocation, Bodric lost interest, returning his focus to the rest of the meeting.
Though he appeared present, Kincaid's mind was elsewhere. Rushing a mile a minute, searching for any way to delay the inevitable. His brother had too much power over him and he refused to be forced to hand over yet another piece of himself. Was it not enough that he had dedicated his entire life to the crown?
There was no threat to Bodric's reign while he lived. Kincaid made sure of it. So why was his brother so determined to think otherwise?
It was exhausting.
The meeting rattled on and on as the same information or lack of updates from the last meeting repeated in this one. Their cause was failing and they still hadn't even made progress in breeding.
The redrya females were still prone to dud clutches while the male redrya produced at a much-reduced rate. It didn't matter how many pairs were created if they couldn't reap the benefits of it. Then what? Would all of this have been for naught? Were they destined to die out?
"Perhaps if we increased their accommodations. Their kind is fragile. They require much to keep their bodies healthy and even then they are still prone to sickness and disease. If the Gemma Crystals cannot cure their ailments, then perhaps we allow some of them to foster what they need to survive and it will strengthen them, in return strengthen their ability to lay a viable clutch," Pelryn presented.
From the sneers around the table, it was clear prejudice would win this battle. But Bodric surprisingly pondered the information.
Pelryn wasn't wrong and the logic was sound, but there was still the ever-looming threat. If they strengthened the redrya too much, would they then provide a threat to the control they had over them? A rebellion now was nothing, but if given the right tools, could become a problem. And a war on Tarlikk and Earth was not what they needed. Kincaid was split too thinly as it was.
"I will consider this. Present me with a proposal by our next meeting," Bodric said, surprising the rest of the Council before dismissing them.
Kincaid watched them all go but knew he was to remain from how intensely his brother watched him.
When the room had cleared, Bodric stood, stretching out the kinks from his form. Weary and tired. An act better than Kincaid could see through, but an act nonetheless.
"You are making this rather difficult, brother," he said once they were alone.
Kincaid didn't reply, staring forward as if his King wasn't circling around him like a predator and prey. It was a game they often played. As if Bodric was testing him. Daring him. Waiting for him to strike out because out of the two, they both know who would win in a test of strength.
But Kincaid kept an ironclad grip on his control, fighting the instincts that roared within him and noting with distaste that the act that had once been beaten into him was slowly unraveling.
All because of that damn redrya.
"I am doing what you commanded of me," Kincaid finally replied.
"You are doing nothing!" He hissed, inches from Kincaid's face faster than the General could blink. Bodric's talons grew, carving deep into Kincaid's arms. "You have a role to play and you think I don't know that you hide from it. You cannot hide, brother."
Bodric's talons loosened from their hold within Kincaid's flesh, only to prick the skin of his neck as the King held his throat.
"You made a promise. And you will fulfill it, or die by it."
They stared at each other for a few moments longer. Invisible flames burst in the distance between them, dancing and daring as it so often did. The desire to crush him, break down this weak male that threatened him ate at Kincaid. Gnawing and ripping through the strained box that rattled and shook deep within the crevasses of his soul.
The discipline he had prided himself on was slowly becoming a noose around his neck with flowery promises even though it had nothing to offer but more responsibilities.
He needed to fly.
Before the moment could grow larger than either had the energy for, Bodric retreated a step, forcing the distance between them and snuffing out the fire that had come so close to consuming everything until it was nothing but gyrating embers waiting for the chance burst of oxygen to bring them to life again.
"Get it done, Kincaid."
And then the King was gone.
Alone and raging, Kincaid allowed just a small slip of control. His aura ripped from within him, rattling the doors and shaking the walls. He could bring his whole castle, ruin the central city with a mere inflection. Instead, he sucked it back in, as he always did.
Soon, he wouldn't be able to. Very soon.
*
Reid was counting the grains within the wood on the slated ceiling when that feeling hit him again. This simmering anger was not as intense as before, but still just as jarring.
Immediately on alert, he sat up from the mass of pillows, eyes glued to the doors, expecting it to groan on its hinges as a force beyond compare blew through without the grace of mercy.
It did open, but not with nearly as much dramatic flare as Reid was expecting.
Kincaid seemed composed, even as anger tinged the air, rimming the edges of his morá in red.
On high alert, Reid fought the urge to retreat as far as his chain would allow. It took every ounce of willpower to remain still, as his eyes tracked the Naerian's every movement.
They were at a stalemate, watching each other. Reid studied him with a forced calmness that he was proud of himself for managing. It was clear that something happened. From the stiffness in the alien's broad shoulders and the tightness around those reptilian yellow eyes. As if the red swirls pulsating around his temples wasn't a big enough signifier, Reid could also see the subtle shifts underneath the golden skin that reminded him of the previous night.
"Emkii," Reid greeted. The sound obviously contained poorly hidden disdain, but it wasn't Reid's goal to convince the Naerian he had become a simpering zealot. He just needed to show that he was being cautious but not going to fight back.
Kincaid's head tilted as he watched Reid, seeming confused by the sudden compliance and lack of fire that usually pulsed through the bond.
With a deep breath, the Naerian released the tension from his shoulders, forcing his morá back into the usual black.
"Come," Kincaid commands.
Reid tenses, hesitating before glancing at the chain around his ankle. "My apologies, Emkii. But I cannot go further from the bed."
It was clear the Naerian had forgotten about Reid's predicament which only served to spike his irritation. Of course the beast would forget, as if his freedom was some trivial matter. Reid wouldn't be surprised if Kincaid had forgotten him altogether when he left this room. Only his physical appearance a reminder of his existence.
Bastard.
Kincaid stepped up to the bed, before sinking down into the mass of pillows, mere feet from Reid. The bed was large enough that they would never have to touch even in sleep, but Kincaid never bothered to sleep in the same room as him. Reid wanted to believe it served him better that way, but it was just leaving him at a disadvantage. He couldn't get close to the male if he was never around.
"You are thin," Kincaid comments, glancing at Reid's form.
"Soups and broths do little for humans after a time, Emkii."
Kincaid frowned. He was told that broths and soups were given to ill redrya. Surely the meal was packed with nutrients in order to make them strong. Why else would they be given it at their time of weakness? Why would that not sustain them regularly? Make them their strongest?
Reid watched as the frown curled the Naerian's lips and eyes seemed to ponder the new information. Were they really that uninformed that they didn't even know the basic diets for humans? Or was it that this Naerian in particular lacked the proper education on the subject?
Reid was about to offer some insight into the proper diet of a human, but Kincaid moved quickly, grabbed his arm and tugged him which landed him sprawled out on the alien's lap. Only a gasp of surprise managed to escape Reid's lips before he was shocked into silence. Talons gripped his throat, hauling him up until he could feel the warm press of lips on the skin at the back of his neck.
Something in him shuddered. It wasn't an entirely pleasant feeling, foreign...reactive. And those weird blossoms of stars and neon colors surfaced on his arms. This had not been taught in school nor have the others mentioned such a reaction.
Though Reid could barely spare a longer thought for it as the lips that grazed his skin had been replaced with sharp fangs.
He was going to bite him.
Though it went against everything in him, Reid did not fight. Instead, he let his teeth sink into the thickness of his bottom lip, using the pain as a distraction, and thought about the cause, thought about the possible freedom that could come after this. He thought about Gabe and Jamila, how they were still fierce members of the rebellion even if they bore a mark on their necks that branded them as the cattle, as owned,as one of them.
He would relinquish one freedom if it meant gaining another. If it allowed him past these four damn walls of a room he didn't even have the luxury to pace. If it eased the chafing of the shackle rubbing his skin raw with no access to medicine or something to wash the wounds.
With that in mind, he fisted the rage, the indignation, the degradation only allowing himself a whimper when Kincaid's fangs sunk past the armor of his flesh, bleeding him.
Reid wasn't sure how it worked, it was barely explained growing up, but he knew enough that a bite to the back of the neck was the ultimate shackle. He would be bound to this Dragon with more than a physical chain. It is why it was so important for humans to keep their necks covered in public. To avoid being claimed by an alien gone rogue. Sometimes, the bites were so vicious, the alien would end up severing the spinal cord.
Inhaling deeply, Reid fought down all the terror and negative thoughts, counting the seconds until it was over.
Kincaid wasn't rough with his treatment, but he wasn't careful either. He treated it as if it were some chore he was crossing off his list. Reid could taste the indifference, the disinterest. Which made it all the more strange that he had been so angry upon arrival. What had set him off? What had triggered this sudden change of events? Because from Reid's understanding upon his first night here, Kincaid wasn't interested in bonding with him.
How was Reid so sure that wasn't a lie? After all the humans had been through, it was hardly surprising.
Reid couldn't figure the male out and it was starting to really grate on his nerves.
After what felt like years, Kincaid finally released Reid, dumping him unceremoniously back on his lap to which Reid promptly scrambled away, hand going to the bloody wound that throbbed and glowed like a beacon. The human's skin was almost fully enveloped in Gemma dust, mirroring the starry sky with explosions of bright colors.
He hardly had the time to process it all. The blood loss made him dizzy. His vision blurred as the world tilted and all he could see was the Naerian's thigh, unmoved as the male was unbothered by his current state. Then he passed out.