Wyvern Protection Unit - Chapter 60: Chapter 60

She walked over to the large square table that sat in the center of the room, which was another larger rectangle, of course.
Not to mention the fact the building the apartment was in was an enormous rectangle that shot straight into the sky. Not aerodynamic at all. No wonder this planet was so backward, technologically speaking.
All planes. So very strange.
Drakeinan had been all ovals and obelisks. Flat, though rounded, the traditional Drakein dwelling was carved into the side of one of the many snow-covered mountains.
Height made no difference, as they could simply fly from one to the other. The main difference here was that while Earth preferred planes, Drakeinan had been more circularly inclined.
The smooth egg-like shapes were appealing to her kind. Though, Daeja had to admit, the rectangles and squares of Earth were growing on her. She did not care to ponder or debate the non-Drakeins’ obsession with hard lines and parallelograms.
Once they’d entered the safe house, Daeja had other things to think about. Such as the fact she was surrounded by her two most earnest desires.
French fries and Heliodore—again, not necessarily in that order.
The heavenly aroma wafting from the steaming bag of rations reached her nostrils, whetting her already engaged appetite for food. Even her Drakein purred with desire as saliva filled her mouth.
“Can we eat now?” she asked and held the round paper-wrapped burger in her hands.
“Pretty sure you can eat whenever you want. Go on. Dig in,” Dor replied with a wink.
What did that mean? She arched one eyebrow and watched him walk around the galley—er, the kitchen.
Daeja was not aboard a space craft any longer and had to remember to use the correct terminology. She decided to simply dig in, as he’d told her to. The delicious smells were making her mouth water.
Heliodore’s glittery yellow eyes never left her as he took the seat across from her once he’d finished gathering plates and napkins. He plucked another burger out of the sack, unwrapped it, and dumped a carton of fries beside it.
More of the tantalizing aroma reached her and she swallowed the snarl that wanted to rip through her.
“Now, this,” he said, holding up the tiny rectangular tub, “is dipping sauce. There are many different varieties. Here, we have barbecue, ketchup, sweet and tangy, and honey mustard.”
“What does one do with dipping sauce?” she asked, curiosity piqued.
“You dip, rosebud.” Heliodore winked again, lifted a French fry, and dipped it into the thick, red sauce he had called ket-ch-up.
He watched her strangely, then shrugged and took a bite. She mimicked his actions, taking a fry and dunking it into the red ket-ch-up. Daeja sniffed it, rearing back at the strong aroma.
“Is it safe?”
“Yes. It’s basically tomatoes, sugar, and vinegar,” he added after swallowing his bite.
She watched him reach for his soft drink, and her nose twitched. That had been another new experience for Daeja.
Soft drinks were deceptively named, as there was nothing soft about the experience. Daeja had stolen a sip from one of the plastic containers when they’d been traveling in his vehicle.
After coughing for a good ten minutes because of something he’d called car-bo-nation, she’d decided flat water was the only beverage she would partake in on this planet. No bubbles ever. That was her new rule.
“I am amazed at the flavors of sustenance on this plan—I mean, country,” Daeja said, stuffing her face before he could suspect anything amiss.
“Well, it’s not the healthiest food choice, but it tastes pretty good. As Shifters, our metabolism is faster than normals, so, you know, it does not affect us the same.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Daeja nodded.
They ate for a little while in companionable silence and Daeja was in ecstasy. Once she started trying out the various sauces, Heliodore offered explanations and ingredient lists. He’d also gotten her a protein called chicken, though he’d been adamant they were not actual fingers.
Still, it was good stuff. Daeja’s inner Drakein growled with contentment. She was near her mate, having just discovered him.
The beast’s focus was singular. She preened at the fact her revolko had provided her with an amazingly delicious bounty of food. Daeja had not seen that amount of food since the last Long Night Feast she’d celebrated as a child.
Even then, cheeseburgers were not on the menu. The mixture of salty and tangy sent her taste buds into fits of pleasure unlike any she had ever experienced. And even better, they were round.
“What is this?” she asked as she watched him unwrap a tiny cardboard rectangle.
“It’s apple pie. Haven’t you ever seen apple pie?”
At the shake of her head, he was pinning her with his gaze once more. Maybe she should’ve lied about the pie?
She could hardly contain her groan as the incredible scent of the sweet treat permeated the air, reaching her sensitive nostrils. Daeja ate hers in two bites.
“You enjoy everything?” Dor asked.
“I am, actually.”
“Good. Now, maybe you can tell me where you’re from and why it is that you don’t seem to know what any of this stuff is, Daeja?”
“Why does it matter?” she asked, truly hating the idea of lying to him, even if by omission.
“I don’t know,” he replied, frustration tingeing his words. “It just does. Was your Clan some kind of cult? I mean, it’s bizarre you don’t know what ketchup is!”
“Was this food costly?” she asked unexpectedly.
“Costly? Not really. I mean, there are other places to eat that are more expensive,” he explained, though he seemed confused. “Like anything, you get what you pay for.”
“Ah, well, where I am from, it is not like that. There are few choices. You are born into a station, and assigned a job at birth,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “You either work at that assigned job, and by doing such you get food, education, a dwelling. Or you don’t fulfill your duties, and you die either by starvation or facing the elements.”
“That sounds fucking criminal!”
“Does it?”
“Yes, at the very least, it is un-American. I mean, who doesn’t get paid for working?”
“When you say paid, you mean money. But to my kind, er, Clan, the idea of being paid does not exist. Everyone works with the same intent to make the Clan better, stronger, whole.”
True, Daeja had a very limited understanding of money. She knew it was much like the markers the Drakein used back home, and later in space during their travels. But those markers were distributed based on Clan standing, rank, and job.
Single females did not earn markers at all. Only mated. It was one of the injustices she’d loathed about her kind. Of all their flaws, inequality between the sexes was the most rampant.
Was that not why she was there? Ordered by her loathsome Commander to do the unimaginable.
Spying. Sneaking. Plotting. No!
Daeja would not be a pawn in that horrible male’s games. Suddenly furious, she could hardly stop her own trembling. She needed to rescue her apakein and the others, now.
Ugh.
If only Jennifer had not forced her promise to keep her truths secret. What good were promises, or markers, or money if the person using them had no scruples?
She might not have been born to a higher class of Drakein. She might not ever be wealthy. But Daeja was honorable.
Freking straight, I am!
Cass Viper was not that, either. He did not honor his debts. She’d watched him promise many markers to those males who’d agreed to follow him. Warrior who had once been males of worth, selling their loyalty for a hollow promise—and what would happen when he failed to deliver?
Drakeinan was gone. With it, their entire way of life. Cass Viper was a scoundrel, and anyone aligned with him would fall.
Daeja would bet her life on it. Guilt assaulted her as she took in the feast and the safe house and her very own bodyguard. This was luxury the likes of which she’d never expected. Here she sat, everything she had ever wanted within reach, whilst her apakein rotted in a cell.
I am still a selfish child.
She scolded, but her inner Drakein chirped at the self-derogation. The beast did not care for that kind of thing, and she was right. This was but a moment of despair. She closed her eyes and counted to five.
“Hey now.” Dor’s voice washed over her like a comforting warm breeze. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she shook her head.
She did not want to discuss the issue yet. Not until she had a solution. Her beast grunted unhappily inside her. Her Drakein did not like her lying to her mate.
Talk to him. Maybe he can help.
She warred with the decision until she realized Commander Viper would kill Heliodore as easy as look at him. Dor was much too worthy to sit back while someone was in need. He would volunteer to help and that meant he would be vulnerable to being hurt, or worse, in the process of protecting her and those she cared for.
No!
Daeja could not allow that. Cas Viper was a bastard, and he would never get the chance to harm Heliodore. Not as long as she could protect him.
Even if it meant lying by omission. Daeja made up her mind. She would not risk Dor for anything.