AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He’s got his own uniform.” Patrick hoped. His robes weren’t exactly combat appropriate and, scientist or not, Sazahk was more than likely going to find himself in combat situations with them.
“And how did we get stuck with him?” Bar’in tossed his shirt on his bed and dropped his pants without a shred of body shame.
Patrick had spent his whole life sharing rooms with other boys and men, but he averted his eyes, anyway. Casting his gaze off to the side to avoid staring at Bar’in, it ended up on Fal’ran’s bare torso and his chiseled abs. That was even worse, so Patrick tugged it back up and it stopped instead on Fal’ran’s vivid stare.
Fal’ran raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at Bar’in’s…crotch, and Patrick scowled as the tips of his ears got hot. He was not interested in any sort of show Bar’in was putting on.
The hint of a cocky smile wove around Fal’ran’s tusk, and Fal’ran held Patrick’s gaze as he dropped his hands to the waistband of his sweatpants. Patrick’s eyes tumbled down and caught on Fal’ran’s long fingers as they unpicked the knot of his drawstring and pushed the fabric down to reveal more of the taut expanse of his dusky skin.
“Sir?”
Patrick’s mouth dried as Fal’ran hooked his thumbs into his waistband to push it over his hips.
“Smith!”
Patrick jerked his head back up to see Bar’in glaring at him. Bar’in made a disgusted sound in his throat and flared his nostrils as he shot Fal’ran a look. Fal’ran rumbled in the back of his throat and Patrick looked back at him just long enough to see him baring his teeth at Bar’in.
“Alright, enough.” Patrick sliced through the air with the blade of his hand and ignored the burn of his blush. “Bar’in, please repeat your question.”
“I asked why we got saddled with the scientist.” Bar’in plopped down onto the side of his bed and started pulling on his boots.
Patrick crossed his arms. “Just so we’re clear, we are honored to be saddled with the scientist.”
“Why?” Fal’ran snorted but Patrick refused to look back at him in case he ended up embarrassing himself again.
“Because it means that the Qeshian Senate has an eye on you.” Sazahk tightened a belt around his narrow hips. He’d changed out of his robes and into very practical, well-worn, field-work clothes: dirty boots, long pants, and a long-sleeved shirt that would be hot in this climate but would at least protect him from the biting insects. “It means that they’ll know about you, follow your exploits, maintain an interest in you, your success, and your survival. They’ll be grateful that you’re keeping me alive as I do my research into the Insects.”
“Okay then, how did we, of all squads, end up with the honor of your presence?” Bar’in sneered at Sazahk as he stood. Patrick pressed his lips together. Sazahk’s comment about Bar’in’s piercing had triggered Bar’in and Patrick didn’t blame him for it.
Sazahk either didn’t notice the hostility or didn’t care, his expression calm and his lime-green spirals spinning. “I requested you.”
“Us?” Fal’ran appeared at Patrick’s side—his bulk and his heat telling Patrick he was there, even if he still refused to look at him.
“Patrick, mostly.” Sazahk pointed at Patrick, then pulled a smaller bag out of his big bag and hooked it over his shoulder. “But yes, also you. The Klah’Eel didn’t want me to pick you. And the Senate didn’t want me to pick you. No one likes you.” Sazahk shrugged a shoulder. “And no one likes me either. I want to go investigate the root system of those trees.”
He walked past Patrick and Fal’ran and left the tent.
Tar shuffled after him.
Bar’in sat on the bed and stared at the tent flap, openmouthed, then looked back up at Patrick. “Sir. What the fuck?”
Patrick spread his hands. “He’ll grow on you, Bar’in.” Maybe.
“Yeah. Right.” Bar’in shook his head with wide, disbelieving eyes, as though reality had crossed into a new level of absurdity and left the tent after Sazahk.
Patrick rubbed his thumb and forefinger into his temples. “I thought that went well.”
“I mean…” Fal’ran shrugged his broad shoulders. “It could have gone worse.”
“Yeah.” Patrick nodded as he dropped his hand from his forehead. “Bar’in could have slit his throat when he opened his mouth about his earring.”
“Honestly,” Fal’ran frowned at Bar’in’s bed. “I think Bar’in kind of liked that he mentioned it without being insulting about it.”
Patrick raised his eyebrows. “That was Bar’in pleased?”
Fal’ran barked a laugh. “No. Bar’in hated that he liked it.”
Patrick hummed. “You might be right.” Confident that he had a handle on his involuntary reactions to a young klah’eel man in his prime, he turned to face Fal’ran. “And what do you think of our new teammate?”
