eyes implore her, clearly considering her his protector even as his fangs stay jammed in the meat of my hand and Gracie’s mate drags her further away.
Ignoring the sounds of humans shrieking, I thunk Jonohkada back down to the ground, slamming him flat. He struggles to rise; but I keep him shoved down, pinning him. My plan consists of cutting off his air until he passes out and can’t tell further tales but he thwarts me by silently relaying his message. He darts a meaningful look at Isla, then jumps his gaze back to Gracie, a telling look if either of them are paying attention—so I shake the hob again.
“HEY! Enough with that! Quit it!” Gracie orders, fighting her mate’s hold. She escapes, because he lets her. I suppose he’s worried about causing her harm in her pup-heavy state.
Loose and mad as a diseased animal, Gracie does the unthinkable.
She grabs me.
It wouldn’t be so terrible—but Isla is RIGHT HERE. Isla here to see another female put her hands on me?
Unthinkable.
A Rakhii female would never allow her mate to cavort with some other female. Gryfala do not tolerate even the idea of another Gryfala’s touch on their male. They outright reject a male who’s allowed advances by another female. And I have observed that humans do not tolerate the male they want being given attention by another female either.
Startled, stricken, I jerk away from Gracie, my eyes flying to Isla. While she stares back at me, I act quickly.
I spit on myself.
I keep spitting on myself.
“Um, Bash...” I hear Isla say.
“Dude. I’m not even gonna try not to be offended,” Gracie mutters. “Although ha, where I’m originally from, we’ve got hedgehogs, and what you’re doing is called selbstbespuchen.”
“God bless you,” Isla tells her.
Gracie snickers softly. “It’s German for ‘self-spitting.’ Hedgehogs have the same kind of frothy saliva and—” she dares to near me with one of her fingers, pointing it at me, “—they do that. It’s a ‘Get away from me, don’t touch me, pthew, pthew.’”
“Interesting,” Isla offers in a musing tone. “Prickly hedgehogs and… Bash.”
Voice agreeable, Gracie comments, “Makes a lot of sense.”
My arm, where Gracie grabbed me—I coat it in my saliva, rubbing it over my scales with rough movements to cleanse the area. Consequently, my bleeding hand, where the hob’s fangs pierced through my scales, also receives a coating of saliva and heals.
Huffing a grunt, I glance back up, and am relieved to note that Isla is watching me with brows raised, but despite knowing that Gracie has touched me, she doesn’t appear upset.
Abruptly, I blink, a dolorous feeling of dread stealing over me. Because it occurs to me that Isla might not feel proprietary where I’m concerned... because perhaps she does not care for me in the way a mate should care.
My hearts feel crushed.
Jonohkada, taking advantage of my hands no longer being on him, hauls in a rasping breath and shouts at the top of his rumormongering lungs, “BUBASHUU IS GOING TO ABDUCT ISLA AND FORCE HER TO BECOME HIS MATE!”
CHAPTER 24
ISLA
Okay. Let’s rewind to about five minutes before we found Bash shaking the daylights out of poor Jonoh.
Gracie had just dragged me off for a private mini conversation that went something like this: “Do me a favor? Tell Bash to chill today or you won't be slobbering on his knob.” (Gracie.)
Me: “Whoa, wow, we—” I’d like to, but we’re not even close to that ever happening “—we haven't, he doesn’t—”
Gracie: “OHHHH, no wonder he's still so grinchy! Well what are you waiting for? It's not like they have Christmas here. Just jump him.”
“HOW?” I’d asked.
Gracie had looked at me like this was the easiest thing. “You’re his kryptonite, Isla. Are you into him or not?”
“Yes! I want him. He’s mine. He just doesn’t know it yet. It’s a delicate situation.”
Gracie had snorted. “There’s nothing delicate about a Rakhii. And definitely not that Rakhii.” She’d peered at me. “Why are you still here?”
“Because it’s a workday…”
“No, I mean—I can’t be wrong about this—Bash is into you too. I saw the whole rock-hoarding thing.”
I’d shrugged. “He collects them.”
Gracie’s smile was the Cheshire Cat’s grin. “I bet he does. Why aren’t you two snogging up a storm and knocking boots until his bed catches fire?”
“That’s the delicate part. See, he doesn’t know that he likes me.” I’d waved around us, to everyone around us who has been, at one point or another, insulted and/or screamed at by the human-hating Bash. “He’s sort of anti-Homo sapiens, so it’s slow