Nebula Book 1: His Breeder

Ak tried to act casual as he waited for the female’s reaction, but deep below his facade were trembles.

He was nervous.

He had faced toothy, winged, slimy abominations, and lived through the Red Snowfall. But here he was, pretending to check on his sword while sneaking glances at an ill, five-foot-nothing, soft and pliant, dull-teethed, short-nailed, alien.

His heart was trembling for reasons other than fear. The eldest son of one of the remaining Ezronian families was quivering like an infatuated fifteen-year-old.

He pushed his shame aside, desperate to capture her reaction.

Did she like the rocks that he collected? After watching her toy with one last night, he figured that she enjoyed them. It was a strange interest, but if it brought her happiness, then he wouldn’t keep her from it.

As she slept, he scouted the nearby area for rocks. He never went too far, not wanting to risk her safety, but was able to gather an impressive collection. His nails were now black with dirt, his back sore from all the times he bent down, his knees stiff.

He looked like a fool.

The female frowned down at the piles. He waited for her to pick one up with his breath caught. So badly, he wanted her to flash those dull teeth of hers.

Her long lashes blinked, and the brown irises that matched her silky dark skin met his. His heart began to seize.

Enough of this cowardness! he reprimanded himself. You are an adult male, the eldest of the Ezron family. You can handle the gaze of any enemy. You can handle this slip of– mothers, no! Why did she look away from me!

He watched her stand up and step over a pile of rocks, ignoring it as well.

No dull teeth were flashed, no interest in the rocks shown, no step toward trust taken.

His shoulders sagged.

She didn’t care about his efforts, and he couldn’t blame her. He had disrespected her with his words, insulted her with the same hands that brought her these rocks.

He deserved the neglect of her eyes, and the pruning of her body whenever he got too close.

You deserve to die alone.

But he was selfish, so he couldn’t return her to Vrox.

With his mood darkened, he began packing up camp. The female was checking her stomach, but he avoided looking, not wanting to intimidate.

Earlier in the morning, he had replaced her coating, so the pain medication should help her for a few more hours. There was sadly nothing that could be done about her fever. He couldn’t keep track of her temperature either, because she would become distressed if he tried to touch her.

He rushed to his feet, only to fall right back down when his vision swam. It was then that he remembered the injury on the back of his head. It hadn’t quite healed yet, and he had no way of checking it.

Now kneeling, he ran a hand through his short black hair. There was a bump on his head, and upon glancing at his hand, he found that there was some blood as well.

Infection was rare for Ezronians, so he wasn’t concerned about that. It was a loss of senses that would be a problem. A loss of sight, hearing, smell, or touch on Ezron’s jungle was an invitation for death. Without his brothers around, protecting the female was solely up to him.

He looked at her and dropped his hand when their eyes met.

Did she see him fall to his knees like a babe that was learning how to walk?

A new concern arose. Did she find him weak?

First, he got caught on a hunter’s trap, and now he’s staggering. He had presented nothing but weakness to her.

Sudden insecurity had him trying to stand back up. If she thought he was weak, then she’d assume he couldn’t provide for her. This was a heinous assumption. He was young, packed with everything needed to offer her safety, pleasure, and babies.

He cleared his throat loudly, crossing his arms over his chest to make his biceps flex.

A gust of wind flew past them, and he swore that he heard the jungle whisper, you are a fool.

He was indeed a fool– a desperate, selfish one.

He looked down at his chest to distract himself from the ache in his head. His skin was tight with youth, and his stomach crowned with squares of strength.

He didn’t look weak, did he?

He made a show of raising both of his arms to stretch, hoping that she would become interested in his physique.

Since the Vanishing happened when he was a boy, he never got to test his popularity among females. His personality had many shortcomings– being curt, impulsive, and short-fused, but he didn’t think that he lacked physically. His face had no deformations, his back was healthily scaled, and his cock was a generous length.

He lowered his arms, trying to see if the female had admired the muscles that were stacked on them.

She was looking at a tree, finding the wood more interesting than his flesh.

With a sigh, he picked up his weapon and walked to her. He made sure not to get too close. Pointing to the left, he communicated that’s the direction they needed to go.

She crossed her arms over her chest as if trying to cover her bare stomach, and he pulled his gaze away quickly to avoid unnerving her.

Nebula watched him step away. Giving one last glance at their camp, she walked to the pile of rocks and picked up two particularly interesting ones. She then rushed after him, not wanting to be left behind.

She couldn’t understand why he got her piles of random rocks. Maybe it was an alien claiming ritual, or maybe it was a gift. She didn’t care either way. The only thing she wanted was being returned to Kira’s side.

Please just get bored of me already.

She eyed his scaled back as he walked through the forest, keeping an eye on the ground and wiping her forehead ever so often. Her fever had begun to calm, but it was still competing with the sun.

When she noticed that he was walking with mechanical-like movements, she frowned. Why was he rolling his shoulders and dramatically swinging his sword whenever he needed to chop a branch down?

She watched him roll his head, clear his throat, and toss his sword from one hand to the other.

His moves were arrogant, and his noises were begging for attention.

What the hell is his problem?