Big Feels: A Monster Romance Anthology by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-14T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 3

MAJA

Patrek’s touch was surprisingly delicate as he applied the glue to the back of her front tooth using a swab and pressed a miniscule chip into place with long tweezers. “You’ll enter the enclosure with the other animals. I’m confident you will blend in. They are used to humans, so they won’t alert to your scent. Inside, you’ll locate the impran and place the tracker on her collar. Your suit is equipped with a special claw to remove it from your tooth.” He indicated her right front paw.

She flexed her fingers and the claws extended and retracted. She could hardly believe she wasn’t looking at the real forelegs of a djumjum. Nor could she believe that she’d get to see an impran in person. Shy, forest-dwelling creatures known for their thin, leathery wings, there were only a handful left on Salaan. “Will she let me touch her in this suit? It’s pretty convincing.”

“Yes. They’re docile. That’s why they’ve fared so poorly. They don’t have an instinct for danger.” His neck plates creaked as he bent to retrieve a tube from a box on the floor. Maja had seen plenty of Skarr before, but only from the street as they stood guard, their bulk blocking the front entrances of the fancy Nightborn estates they protected. Never any closer than that. As Patrek mixed a different batch of sticky glue, she relished the opportunity to observe him.

Below a bare scalp, craggy brow ridges arced across his forehead and down his cheeks to join with the powerful line of his jaw, framing flinty eyes and a wide nose that had clearly borne the brunt of more than one attack. His broad mouth lacked lips, but he didn’t look unkind as he pressed it into a firm line, concentrating on his work. On either side of his chin, blunt ivory tusks as large as Maja’s forearms jutted out.

It was a warrior’s face, though nothing about him nor his home would indicate he had a tendency toward violence. If anything, the opposite. His table was littered with scraps of fabric, spools of thread, an unfinished scarf still on the knitting needles, paper pattern pieces, empty mugs. She couldn’t spot any weapons anywhere, only a bread knife stuck in a half-eaten loaf that was bigger than her pillow at home.

Perhaps he, himself, was the weapon and didn’t need anything except his fists and size. But his skin, the same bronzey red as Salaan’s sandstone cliffs, was not as rough as she imagined it would be. He looked like he was carved from a mountain, but he was surprisingly soft to the touch. The plates imbedded in vulnerable areas were rocky and forbidding, but the rest of him was pliant, textured hide. He was built for defense, not offense.

When he’d picked her up, cupping her in his hand, she’d sensed the heat of his skin through the djumjum padding, and his gentle grip had made her feel secure. She hadn’t felt so safe and protected since she was a child in her mother’s arms and didn’t know any better.

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