Wyvern Protection Unit - Chapter 61: Chapter 61

After two hours of looking over everything in the safe house, Daeja was hungry again. Heliodore had only chuckled when she asked about more rations.
“I do like a girl who can eat,” he said, placating her bruised ego.
She’d never felt so ravenous before, but it was like her entire body was seeking out calories. She watched as he proceeded to check the cabinets until he located a plastic jar. It was filled with something called pea-nut but-ter.
“Okay, now where is the—ah! Here it is. Grape jelly,” he murmured, placing both jars on the counter.
A little more rummaging, and Heliodore located a package of crackers. Those were round, and Daeja thought they resembled the baked onein they had on the ship.
“Here, try this,” Dor said, handing her a pea-nut but-ter and grape jelly stack.
Shrugging her shoulders, she opened her mouth and popped the tiny concoction in.
“Mmm,” she moaned as flavor burst along her tongue.
Salty, sweet, and delicious, she went to talk, and found it difficult to even open her mouth.
“Drink this,” Heliodore grinned, handing her a glass of something white he poured from a square box.
The taste reminded her of the milneinan, a drink sourced from herds of heifein that roamed the countryside of Drakeinan. She recalled memories of drinking warmed milneinan dosed with Drakeinan wine as she and the other females gathered around the fire pits during festivals back home.
She missed the simpler times, but right then, looking at Heliodore’s pale yellow gaze, Daeja understood what destiny truly was. She was meant to be here. With him.
“Thank you. I liked it very much. The flavors are quite pleasing,” she told him, returning his generous smile.
“It’s just peanut butter and jelly on crackers,” he said, shrugging.
“It was kind of you to make it for me. Where I come from, that means something.”
“Does it?” he asked, and suddenly, Daeja felt very warm.
“Yes.”
Dor leaned closer, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ears. Heat radiated off him in waves and Daeja swayed slightly on her feet. How she wanted to touch him!
“Um, how about we talk now?” Dor prompted, guiding her to sit on an oblong sofa.
It was soft and comfortable, and the cushions moved as he sat beside her. Daeja felt her face flame. The seating arrangement was quite intimate. More so than she was used to.
“Okay, uh, let’s start at the beginning. Your name is Daeja Smith.”
“Yesss,” she said, hating the lie.
“Where did you say you were from?”
“I didn’t,” she cleared her throat.
“And your people? You mentioned a rescue?”
“Our leader is a liar and a tyrant. Jennifer Dylluan promised aid.”
“Did she now?” he muttered, leaning forward with his arms on his knees.
She could tell he was annoyed, but was distracted by the play of muscles across his wide shoulders. They were thick, like cords, and wound around his striking physique. The shirt he wore pulled tight, and her fingers itched to touch him as she counted the bulges on his arms.
“Did Jennifer say how she would help?”
“No.”
“Can you explain the situation?”
“I cannot. She made me promise or aid will be withheld. I am sorry, revolko. This is bigger than me,” she whispered.
Heliodore growled his displeasure, and she felt his disappointment down to her soul. Things went the same way for the next few rounds of questions. He asked, she avoided. And how difficult a task it was!
He was handsome and extremely tempting. Perhaps even more so than her rations, which he’d explained were called fast food.
Not because of how fast one consumed them, but because of how quickly they were prepared, was like a tnedor with a grain stick. That was a beast who would not let go for all the jewels on Drakeinan.
“So, you don’t; have fast food where you are from?”
“No.”
“What do you eat?”
“Um, we used to have wonderful meat cooked on open flames with huge pots of roasted vegetables fresh from the farm. Lately its been more dehydrated food rations,” she confessed.
“What are you, like survivalists or something?”
“Something,” she agreed.
He was not wrong. The Drakein wanted very much to survive. Daeja watched the moonlight filtering in through the shaded windows, and she heaved a sigh.
“Are you alright?” Heliodore queried, and she turned to reassure him.
“Oh!” Daeja cried out.
The sudden movement had her gasping in pain. Hands clasped to her stomach, she doubled over, straightening as her stomach hardened beneath her hands.
“Daeja! Shit! Talk to me. What do you need?”
“I-I don’t know. It burns,” she growled the words.
Her Drakein was shredding her from the inside out. Daeja dropped her head back and let out a noise the like of which she had ever heard.
Like a roar and a yelp rolled into one. Covering her mouth at the sound, she squealed in horror.
“I am broken! You must take me back to the medical center,” she raced for the door, but he was right behind her.
“Daeja, wait!”
Heliodore reached for her arm, swinging her around to face him. Another wave of cramps squeezed her abdomen, causing her to feel decidedly uncomfortable.
“Take it easy, rosebud. You only burped. It happens,” Dor explained, his massive male shoulders shaking with his laughter.
“What do you mean, it happens? All the time? From those rations? Frek me!”
Daeja would never enjoy a French fry again if it meant explosive noises would erupt from her lips. It was undignified and somewhat uncomfortable. She rubbed the spot between her breasts, and suddenly, Dor was staring right there.
“You cannot be right. A burp? Surely something is wrong with me.”
“Nope. Not a thing, rosebud. Actually, I am pretty sure you’re perfect,” he whispered, staring into her eyes.
The fast food which had gone down so pleasantly had created a riot in her stomach. She clutched her rigid abdomen again and allowed him to lead her to the couch.
“Come on. Sit here. You look green.”
“Green is not my color!” she moaned.
Well, it wasn’t. Her cousin Verity was a green-scaled colored Drakein. Daeja was very proud of her rose-quartz scales.
Heliodore frowned at her. He walked towards one of the smaller rooms, away from where he’d gently sat her down. Daeja did not like that at all.
“Gimme one second,” he called out, as if to reassure her.
Daeja moaned and cradled her suddenly very sensitive abdomen. She gasped and groaned as another burp threatened to make itself known, but she held it in.
The sound was not at all pleasant. It certainly could not be good for her! No matter what the male said.
Plus, it felt terrible coming out. No. It was wrong. It could not possibly be a sign of health to do that foul thing again.
“Here you go. Open up, honey.”
Heliodore’s voice had her opening her eyes to receive him and the cool glass of bubbling liquid he placed in her hand.
“It is exploding,” she sniffed at the liquid and frowned.
Whatever the magical concoction was, she surely could not imbibe anything that whizzed around a glass like that. The sputtering, fizzing potion was like the forbidden brew made by mystics on Drakeinan.
They had only been permitted within Clan territory during festivals and times of harvest. How she would miss such sights for the rest of her days! She sighed heavily.
“Look, you don’t believe me, but do you trust me?” Heliodore’s glittering yellow eyes implored her, and she readily agreed.
“Yes, I trust you.”
Daeja felt the truth deep down inside, all the way to her beast. Her Drakein more than trusted this tall, brave, handsome male. She wanted him with everything in her.
“This is medicine. It will help your upset stomach. Drink it. You’ll see.”
Daeja was helpless to deny her mate anything, and he seemed to really want to stop her suffering. She was not so cowardly a female as to fear a drink.
Sitting up straight, she took the cup and tipped it back, swallowing the vile bubbly water until it was empty. The result was a burp louder than the first, then immediate relief.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat, certain she had made a spectacle of herself. “Um, thank you.”
“My pleasure. I am sorry, I should’ve warned you about eating so much, so fast.”
Her face flamed with embarrassment as she realized she’d been the one to err, not him. Being one of the very few shorter, thicker Drakein females, she had often been denied full sized rations as her shape suggested she could stand to eat less.
That had never seemed to work, though. Even when Cass Viper had shortened her to a ration every other day. Her body was as downright stubborn as her mind. She had remained decidedly curved.
“It is I who must apologize,” she murmured. “I am not used to seeing so much food in one place. I know I might appear, I believe your word for it is fat. And I understand males prefer their women slender. But please try to understand the place I come from has very different dietary practices,” she explained, her cheeks burning with discomfort.
“Daeja—”
“No, I must finish, please. You see, no matter how many turnings I spent without rations. Regardless of multiple restrictions and exercise regimes, I remain always like this. I realize I overdid it with the portions today, but I swear that is not my norm,” Daeja concluded her humiliating story.
She hated the idea he disliked her body, but hoped her explanation would suffice. Daeja did not want her future mate to think her a grazing heifein.
“I can’t imagine what you just told me. To be forced to change your diet and exercise sounds downright fucking cruel. Now, I don’t know who said you needed to change. But in my opinion, that asshole can go right to hell.”
“What?” Daeja asked, confused.
“I am telling you, woman, you look just right from where I’m sitting,” Heliodore said in a deep voice that echoed the need within her.
“Just right?” she asked.
“Yeah. Just look at you, all pink and perfect, rosebud.” Dor repeated in a hushed whisper that sent shivers racing through her.
He leaned closer. His warm breath tickled the skin of her cheek. Daeja’s heart pounded. She’d never been on the receiving end of any wanted male attention. And she wanted this male’s attention.
Every bit of it. She wanted him to focus solely on her. Craved it, even. But she was lying to him still, and that didn’t sit well. He knew nothing of who she was.
Frek.
Truth was, he knew nothing of who he was. But none of that mattered as he cupped her cheeks and tilted her head, pulling her close until their faces were aligned.
Her pulse raced like mad. The room seemed suddenly very, very hot. What was this madness? Like a spell someone cast over them. Daeja followed his lead, leaning closer and closer.
But she didn’t know why. What could make two people move so close, like they were keen on crashing into one another?
The answer is the same as before. He is mine.