Bird of a Flock (Bow 2)

Chapter 46

Orange eyes looked up, as a dagger passed over his throat. Blood dripping from the wound. Not enough to kill. Couldn't kill him. As much as he wished to. He sobbed and arms surrounded him. Strong and firm, reassuring from something that was not his feelings but something else entirely. "We never wanted to hurt you," whispered words, hands holding him close. His limbs felt weak and sluggish. Had he been drugged again? When had he been drugged the first time? "We won't ever again. We swear!"

It was the truth. Those words were spoken by someone who meant them. He let out a burst of hysterical laughter. Everything that had happened and they meant those words. If it had been anything else, maybe they could have been reassuring.

"You meant to kill me," he snarled, pressing his forehead against the man's shoulder, a slight dampness touching his cheek as blood spread from the other's neck to his cheek where they brushed.

"We did. Kill, not hurt. But you proved ..." Kind/caring/gentle. Emotions rolling in where words couldn't be spoke. Words were too hard right now in a matter so visceral. Only feelings could be truly expressed. Those feelings were quickly followed by fear, fear of him and then shame of what had transpired. "I wouldn't have let him stay with someone who forced him. But you were just as forced so we changed plans. If things had been different..." Oh, how he wished things had been different.

"Why now? Why do you want more now?" The word 'more' seemed to echo in the space around them. Feelings turning black and inky. The hands held him closer, gripped tighter making it hard to breathe or think clearly. Only they loosened as he felt pain. Regret filling the space. A second pair of hands rubbed his back.

Like/desire/fondness. Emotions flowing through again. He wasn't used to it yet, used to feeling them. They had done a good job of blocking him. He had been thankful for that. "We can't go on like this. Our people need more. We won't let it be like last time. We won't force it. But please. Give us a chance..." A whispered hope, a dream of sorts that they could turn something that had started cold and dark to something warm and light. "Give us a chance..." the words echoed again, resounding in the mind.

The world spiralled and a new image came. Of a young human man who was attractive and unafraid. Blood was still spread over his cheek and on his hands but the man looked up at him with fire in his eyes and a ghost of something within.

"You're late," he challenged.

"I had patients," the man bowed gracefully. Respectfully, despite words to the opposite. Amusement bubbled in his chest. He liked this one. This one was different.

"You like him," the voices whispered, shadows filling the air again, "We could..." take/claim/conquer. Humans were not k'nairi. They were weak but often beautiful, loyal and smart. Worthy of desire and respect. But respect from k'nairi was a double-edged sword. Skills were things which made people valuable.

"No! I won't let what happened to me, happen to him," he snapped at the voices. Guilt and shame travelled back. That had not been what they meant. "Hush now, I didn't mean it like that." Warmth/ love/guilt. "Stop it. I love you too. I love you both, but I will not force this on him."