“So which group did you belong to?” she asked.
He blinked, blindsided by the question. It didn’t take any substantial guesswork to know what she meant, despite the quick change of subject after their prolonged silence preceding it.
He didn’t look at her as he replied curtly, “I was reared by my mother.”
Terri glanced over at him. “What about your father?”
“My sire provided all the required necessities, but the female rules the domicile. All offspring are attached to her, so when a mated pair decides to rear their young, it is her responsibility and the adult offspring, in the end, will reflect on her line. My mother wished to rear me, and my father yielded to her wish, though he had no desire to take part. It is not an unusual arrangement among Argurma who choose to raise their offspring.”
Turning to face him fully, Terri’s lips dropped in an expression of sadness that he failed to understand. Looking away, she focused on the building, blinking her eyes rapidly. Veral expanded his mandibles, drawing in her complex scent.
The unmistakable wet tang of sadness and a layer of something else undefinable.
“Why are you sad, female?” he demanded with a flare of impatience when she remained silent, her eyes scouting along the perimeter of the building. Although it was reasonable to be attentive to the lay of the area, the scent was lingering, and it disturbed him that she did not attempt to explain it.
Terri turned her eyes on him with annoyance as her lips twisted in displeasure. “Jeez, you’re pushy. If you want to know something, can’t you ask nicely?”
“My query was expedient,” he replied, his brow dropping into a scowl.
She shook her head at him and returned her attention to the roof, her lips tightening. “If you lift me up, I think I can wiggle in through the window and look around to see if there’s anything worth tossing outside to you.”
Not one to be deflected, Veral crossed his arms over his chest and glowered, his lips tightening even as his mandible opened in irritation. When he didn’t reply, Terri glanced over at him and rolled her eyes.
“If you are so set on knowing, then fine, I’ll tell you. That you speak of your father as if his presence was more or less inconsequential makes me miss what I had with my father before the Reapers killed him. He was all I had after my mother died. I’m sad for myself… and for you,” she said quietly.
Veral drew back, his vibrissae puffing out aggressively. He felt both attacked by her soft-spoken admission and destroyed by it. He had seen since leaving Argurumal the way males of other species behaved with their offspring, even among other salvagers who took their families with them. It plucked at something within him that he’d been unable to identify, and yet with this female’s simple declaration, a sense of loss surged within him from nowhere. His processor grappled with it, trying to understand this feeling. He knew anger and pain. He knew something of the bitter humor which got him through many difficult times and vengeance. Loss was the product of an unnecessary attachment.
“I do not require your pity,” he stated. “I do not recall much of my sire, or even my mother in my youth. Such attachments are unnecessary. Mate bonds are the only reasonable and permissible attachment as it guarantees a consistent and stable breeding pair while providing a regular companion for psychological health. That need has not been something our designers have been able to get around, and so our males and females are required to mate when we are young adults.”
She lifted a speculative eyebrow. “That is… disturbing. That’s the nicest thing I can honestly think to say. It seems like a very cold existence, although at least you can have a mate. How old are you, anyway?”
“Not young,” he retorted with a snap of his vibrissae.
“And is your mental health declining?” she asked, a tiny smile playing on her lips.
“No,” he said. He could feel his vibrissae flattening against his skull defensively.
He did not like that this female was bringing so many emotional reactions from him. He desired nothing but his comfort and his wealth. He didn’t need to be hampered with inconvenient emotions.
Her teeth immediately bared in a wide, savage smile. “So there’s no reason not to tell me. Come on,” she coaxed. “How old?”
He growled, willing her to back down despite the kernel of pleasure and admiration at her bold insistence. Her smile became sharper, more like a snarl, and the lines of her face set in determination. His vibrissae flicked humorously and he broke out into a loud chuffing.
“Very well, anastha. I am two hundred fifty-seven.”
Her lips pursed and she whistled through them. “That’s fucking ancient compared to humans. And just how old are your people when you normally mate?”
He grumbled the number under his breath. She leaned forward, a smile curving her lips as her eyes shone humorously.
“I’m sorry… What was that?”
“Eighty-nine planetary revolutions,” he grunted.
The humor in her eyes died as she leaned back to regard him somberly. “That is a very long time to be alone.”
Veral threw back his shoulders and puffed out his vibrissae with pride, his mandible spread in a show of power as he glared down at her. “I do not require such attachments to be operational. I have no malfunctions and am at peak performance—or was until I was recently damaged, but my nanos are repairing me, and my vengeance will be visited upon them before I leave this world.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, her brows winging upward. “That’s some pretty intense denial. By the way, what does anastha mean?” she asked, changing the direction of conversation. Veral didn’t know if he should be grateful or insulted that she felt necessary to deflect. What he did experience was embarrassment at her poor pronunciation mangling such an esteemed term.