Quit Your Waning (Over the Moon #3)

SIZZLE

Dawn was approaching and I hadn’t slept a wink.

Licking my teeth back into alignment, I prowled my meticulously organized pantry—er, scrapyard—hungry and looking for… for something. I snarled at myself, frustrated that my appetite was so confused. It had been getting worse for the past week. I sniffed a fermenting carburetor, what the others called “rusted junk”, and sneezed for the dozenth time.

Why did everything smell like fucking soap?

Soap was the worst marinade. It reminded me of freshly showered flesh, which tasted awful.

So why was I licking the soapy carburetor and purring?

“Blegh.” I tossed the scrap and scraped my tongue with my claws.

Before I could examine my own behavior too deeply, I spied what I’d been looking for and hadn’t even known. With a happy huff, my ears perked up tall above my head, I trotted over to the intact pilot’s seat that peeked out from beneath a tarp to keep the moisture and rain away, clicking with self-satisfaction. It was perfect, exactly what I was craving. I tossed the tarp, opened my throat teeth wide, unhinged my jaw so I could fit the whole thing in my mouth at once…

Then paused, head cocked in deliberation.

“Hmm…” I rumbled in thought, zipping my mouth closed. I was hungry for something… substantial. The seat was clean, full of air, and not appetizing at all. But maybe in the right corner of my new—

“Hey, Siz,” Vin called, strolling into my territory from the direction of the hangar. I spun around with a snarl, clutching the pilot’s seat close.

“It’s mine,” I snapped, sure he was there to steal my new collectible. It was so soft. Perfect. I couldn’t let him have it.

Vin raised one of his crimson brow plates at me, golden eyes narrowed in confusion. “Okay,” he said slowly, palms up. “What’s your deal, big guy?”

I blinked my reflective eyes at him, ears twitching. Why was I being territorial? Vin was a venandi, one of the plated guardian species of the Intersolar Union. He had mandibles and fangs, talons on his three-fingered hands. His kind could best a bilong, if they knew how… But he ate meat and sugar. He didn’t give a shit about my scrapyard. I knew that.

“I’m collecting objects that are in pristine condition.” I licked my throat teeth and then clicked them shut in a slow, shifty cascade. Click click click click…

“So that’s why this place has gotten so much easier to navigate, huh?” Vin teased, cocking a hip. He crossed his arms, chuckling through the vibration of his mandibles. “Cleaning house?”

I sneezed again, my wet nose scrunching up with distaste, stomach growling.

“Maybe. Why so curious?”

Vin cracked his neck and walked over to me on his two legs, laying a hard clap on my shoulder. “Imani got a buncha complaints about noises in the jungle. Asked me to come by, see if you’d heard anything…” He collapsed on top of a sofa I’d dragged out of a unit with water damage.

I squinted at him, sitting on the soft cushions, spreading his two legs out, rubbing his crown of spires like a conceited dick. Maybe I didn’t need the pilot seat. Maybe I needed that sofa…

But I spied stains and mold spots in the fabric and decided no. It wasn’t good enough. My choice was better. Of course it was better.

Vin clacked his mandibles to get my attention and his stare sharpened.

“So?”

I cocked my head. “What?”

He raised his brow plates, looking at me with concern. I sneezed again, my maw shaking side to side.

“Fuck!” I growled, rubbing my nose into my fur to quell the itch. But everything smelled the same. Everything. Even me. I couldn’t get that itchy soapy swill out of my lungs, no matter what.

“You good, Siz?” the arms master asked. I snapped my jaws at him, exhaust leaking out of my nostrils in frustration.

“Fine.”

“Like hell you are,” he snorted. “D’you listen to what I said? Weird noises in the jungle at night. Scaring the humans. Panicked calls to Imani. There was a gharbpan carcass left on the front stoop of Home Tower 01 last night too. Those fuckers are big, and someone reported seeing the trees shake around the trails.”

I blinked and gripped the pilot seat a little tighter, trying desperately not to look out at the treeline near the home towers.

“Oh really? Wow so weird,” I mumbled, licking one eye as it twitched.

Vin gasped and pointed a talon straight into my face.

“It was you, wasn’t it? I fuckin’ knew it!”

I snapped my jaws together with a huff. “Pah, no! Why would I do something dumb like that? Those overgrown rats are way too fatty. They would make a terrible gift.”

Vin’s eyes sparked with evil intent. “Yeah, totally. Too gamey. Humans like lean meats. Should have gotten a vash or a rajadthi.”

I swore under my breath, curling one lip up. He was right.

No matter. I snorted, swishing my tail with a haughty roll of one shoulder. “It’s fine. I still have the tin pot—”

“Ah ha! You are nesting! A souls-damned bilong is nesting in my human fucking colony! Holy shit, brother, where do I buy claw guards and muzzles in your size?”

“I can give my humans gifts without being spun.”

Vin leaned over my pilot’s seat, vibrating his mandibles with amusement. “Bilongs don’t share. Anything. Except with one person.”

My hackles stood with indignation. “Excuse me, I give you gifts all the time.”

“Oh yeah?” He wriggled his talons. “Gimme the seat then.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped, shielding it with my body. “You can’t have it.”

“You sure? It’ll fit my big ass perfectly. Maybe I’ll turn it into a recliner. Or fuck Imani on it on the weekends.”

I gasped and reared back in scandalized alarm. “If a single whiff of your scent gets on my fucking chair, I’ll eat you alive.”

“Uh huh,” he said, sitting back again, crossing his arms with satisfaction. “Still sure you’re not nesting, then?”

I realigned my teeth and dug my free front claws into the ground with uncharacteristic uncertainty, still protecting my prize. “My claws itch,” I admitted. “Felling trees helps keep them healthy. And the scrapyard doesn’t feel right. I’ve been building a—”

“Nest?”

I glared at Vin’s stupid grin like my eyes were sawblades. He wriggled his mandibles at me.

“Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled, beside himself with glee. “Go on.”

“Tree house,” I enunciated, drumming my claws against the pilot seat’s frame. “So the wood doesn’t go to waste. Carving it. It has to be perfect.”

“For who?”

My hackles puffed up out of surprise, eyes as big as saucers, literally. “What?”

“It has to be perfect, yeah? For who?”

I looked down at the seat cushions with sudden possessiveness. Jihae’s unit had soft things in it—empty calories like batting and upholstery but that her soft body could burrow into for safety and comfort. It was the sort of thing I never felt compelled to eat, but in the past week, the only thing that had tasted good was the damn pillow.

The daylight hours were fine, but then the night came and Jihae’s balcony opened. I could smell her no matter where I was. Hunger would consume me and I’d hunt. Not for food, but to rend, destroy, protect. To claim a space and defend it with brutality. My fangs itched, my muscles ached, my stomach gnarled itself into knots. My cock would hang between my legs, swollen and weeping until I’d finally wrap my tongue around it and squeeze it like a python's prey.

And then I’d pass out and wake up to find the biria trees shredded into K’riyan patterns like the palaces Jihae had shown me. The ones she misses, that make her think substantial, inspired thoughts. Only my trees were better, because they smelled like me.

I huffed steam from deep in the volcanic pockets of my lungs.

“So I might be a little more… restless than usual.”

Vin smiled. Not with infuriating amusement, but with understanding, staring off towards the hangar where Imani, his vira, was likely fielding security flags and reading logs. “That’s what it does to you.”

I clicked my teeth, setting the seat down and taking a wary step back from it. “I claimed three trees four nights ago. You should keep people away from the area. Especially at night. You’ll know by the patterns carved into the trunks. Don’t touch any of them.”

Vin gave me a long look, setting his elbows on his knees. “I’ll take you off patrols for now. Siatesh will pick up the slack.”

My heart bumped with excitement, the haunted trail flashing in my mind. Long black silk, pink cheeks, pale, trembling fingers… No patrol meant no evening conflicts. More time to show Jihae how pretty of a beast I was.

Fuck me, I really was nesting.