Falling in Love with the King of Beasts

GAHRYE – Human World

He'd returned to the suite and checked in both rooms, only to find Elia curled up asleep in the bed of the second one. For a moment he considered waking her so she could change. But she was so obviously exhausted—and tormented—he decided against it. 

He set his own bag in the other room, changed his clothes, and found the strange bathing room of this world. There was a curious moment when he stepped into the tall, stone-and-glass cube and turned one of the dials on the wall, only to be slapped in the face by a sudden waterfall…

He suspected he'd found Elia's "shower." 

His clothing was soaked immediately. With a sheepish grin, he just stripped them off in the shower, then used the soap that had been left there to wash himself. 

The towels had a strange smell and didn't absorb the water as quickly those back home. But when he was finally clean and dry, he was about to walk out into the room—until he remembered Elia's strange feelings about nudity. All humans were that way, apparently. And if one of them had arrived while he was in the shower, or if Elia had woken, he didn't want to add to her tension by creating embarrassment for her.

He took the towel and wrapped it around his hips, catching sight of himself in the mirror as he turned for the door. They'd had a mirror at home, but he never really found a need for it, aware as he was, what he looked like.

But now he wondered… what did he look like to a human?

Elia was beautiful, if physically weak. Were all humans like her? Making up for their frailty by being attractive so the stronger would help them?

Elia had told him he would be popular in this world. Much as he yearned to test the theory, Elia's safety had to be his first priority. But if it was true, he wondered how he would appear. She'd said he was very tall by human standards which would attract attention—but she reassured him the attention would be positive.

What would they think of the rest of him?

He frowned at himself in the mirror, wishing he had a better idea what humans thought to be attractive in a mate. 

His sandy hair was long enough to fall across his forehead and tickle his cheekbones when he didn't push it back. He turned his head and tried to look at himself. His long, square jaw was clean shaven, though the stubble was beginning since he'd been up so early that morning and who knew how many hours his body thought he'd spent in the traverse. 

His eyes were light—they looked green in some lights, almost yellow in others. And his body was… normal in Anima. Strong. Tanned. His shoulders broad and flat. Scars marred his skin in places, though, making small pink lines on his chest and arms, and legs. Would human women be afraid of scars? Elia said the men where usually much less physical. Were the women accustomed to bodies that had been… used?

He scanned himself, comparing his frame to Shaw's, then suddenly realized what he was doing. With a disgusted snort at himself, he turned away from the shining surface, shaking his head. It was not as if he could change if the humans didn't like him, was it? Grumbling at his own ridiculousness, he returned to the bedroom, dressed, and determined to wait for Elia to wake, praying she was in a much calmer state of mind when she did.

Two hours later he sat in the living area, his leg jiggling with tension. Elia was deeply asleep, but he was wide awake. Outside the afternoon sun was beginning to fade. He could hear people downstairs—not just Shaw. But the voices were quiet and obviously working not to disturb them. None of them came above the first floor.

Gahrye had been debating going downstairs for an hour to get some food. With the drama around Elia's response to him, Shaw had obviously forgotten his earlier instructions. Though all the amenities they needed were here, his stomach was beginning to gnaw at his backbone.

Once he'd been fed, he would ask about the records, the histories that Shaw had mentioned. There was no reason why he shouldn't begin their research immediately. Perhaps Shaw, or someone who worked with him, would already know where they could find information for Elia's health right away.

Perhaps her aggression and this sleeping was all a part of it.

Or perhaps it was the madness.

Wanting away from that thought, he sprang to his feet, scribbled a note to Elia on the paper and pen he found on the side table then, leaving it outside the door of the bedroom she was in, he headed downstairs.

It was the work of a minute to find Shaw in the dining room were he'd taken them earlier—but with a woman wearing an apron, her fists on her hips and her lips pressed flat. He didn't know what made her annoyed, but he could smell it wafting off of her before he'd even entered the room.

When Gahrye stepped inside they both looked up, and the woman gave him a small, grim smile, then tottered off into the next room that smelled like the kitchen.

"Ah! Gahrye, it's good to see you again. Is Elia okay?"

"She's asleep," he said carefully. He didn't know why. He still didn't trust this man, though he could pinpoint absolutely nothing the man said or did that was dishonest. "I need food," he said bluntly. "And some to take upstairs and leave for Elia, in case she wakes while I'm working."

"Working? You have a task, then?"

Gahrye nodded. "I am hoping you might help me, or know someone who can."

"I will always do my best."

"I need to look into the histories you mentioned. Any records you might have that discuss the impacts of humans returning here after being in Anima, and what might help. And also… human women pregnant to an Anima."

Shaw's eyes widened. "Really? Really!" He looked for a moment like he might faint and Gahrye almost stepped forward to take his arm, to catch him. "Oh, that is wonderful, Gahrye. Elia is… so he mated her then? That's how she survived?"

Gahrye looked at the little man, but he couldn't see any way around it. He'd known why she was taken to Anima—and apparently approved. He nodded.

Shaw clasped his hands to his mouth. "That is… that is astounding! The first human queen in what… fifteen generations?"

Gahrye shrugged. "But you understand that we need to help her?"

"Yes, yes. I have just the person to help you. Two of them, actually, but Kalle will be here any minute. She was scheduled to be on call this weekend and she'll be excited to meet you. She only had a very, very brief interaction with the wolves and she was yearning for more."

"What is her… role here?"

"Oh, she's a Guardian. Don't worry," Shaw said with a flap of his hand. "We choose two per generation. My sister passed away, unfortunately, but my mother is still here and will help you. Kalle is my niece. She's taken the vows and has the bloodline. You can trust her."

Gahrye nodded. "Thank you. I would like the chance to ask her some questions."

"Certainly. Let me get you some food, and then if she hasn't arrived, I'll call her. Please, take a seat. I'll return in a moment," he said and hurried off in the same direction the cook had gone earlier.

*****

Twenty minutes later, Gahrye sat at the table, shoveling food into his mouth, not because it tasted good, but to get it past his tongue as quickly as possible.

He didn't say anything, but it was no wonder to him that the humans were so small and weak. The vegetables were pale and slack. The meat lacked substance and the nutrient fats. And the bread was flat and lifeless.

Only the butter was tasty, and that merely because of the salt.

He was just putting another forkful of long, green beans into his mouth when Shaw turned to face the doorway and clapped his hands. "Oh, wonderful you made it."

A female voice that niggled at Gahrye, but he couldn't place answered, "Sorry. I had issues with—"

She stepped into the dining room and all at once Gahrye's fork clattered to his plate, cutting her off. She turned, mouth open and without thought, he was on his feet, mouth opening and closing in shock, his chair thumping to the carpet behind him.

"Are you well?" Shaw asked hastily.

"I'm sorry, sir. Did I frighten you?" she said quietly, her strange eyes—they looked green just then, wide and concerned and her dark hair swung in a glossy curtain as she looked back and forth between him and Shaw.

It was the woman from his vision in the traverse.

"Kalle," he breathed. "My mate's name is Kalle?"

****

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