No, I feel keffing fantastic. I beat a fist over my heart, roaring with pride, and storm over to the fire so all can look upon my glory.

“Oh fuck off,” one woman mutters.

I raise both hands in the air again, stalking around the fire and letting all of them admire Skarr, he who has won the first sparring match here on this dismal planet.

Someone throws a handful of snow at my back. “Keep it down,” calls another female. “You’re giving me a headache!”

Slowly, I lower my arms and try not to show my frown to them. I…do not understand.

They should either love me or fear me. Both reactions are to be expected when faced with a triumphant, dangerous gladiator. They are giving me neither reaction. They are not begging to be pleasured.

Do…do they not know how to appropriately judge a battle?

I thump my chest again and then sit on a rock near the fire, my back stiff and my tail moving back and forth with agitation. I wait.

If my theory is correct, I shall resonate. I eye everyone within range of the fire’s light. The blonde female (who ignores me), Valmir (who gives me a look of disgust), and Chalath (irritated that I won, no doubt). Another two females hurry away, and another makes eye contact with me and bursts into tears.

Only one remains by the fire, the bland female with unremarkable features. She pokes at the flames with a long, skinny bone, then glances over at me with narrowed eyes.

“Ha!” I cry, beating my chest again. My tail sways back and forth, and I thump a fist over my heart once more. I do not need the adoration of that female to celebrate my win.

She curls her lip in my direction, turning back to the fire and poking at it with the stick once more. She is dismissing me. Clearly she missed the fight where I showed my strength.

I give my chest another proud thump, pacing back and forth, and then I feel it. There is a tickle in my chest. I pause and wait, curious. It grows stronger, the tickle turning into a vibration. A humming.

A song.

Yes.

I have won. I have made this parasite, this khui, realize that I am the strongest of males, and so I should get the best of the females. I thump my chest again, triumphant, and the song only grows stronger. “You see?” I cry. “I resonate! I am the greatest of gladiators! My khui all but demands that I claim a female!”

“Oh brother,” someone mutters, and I turn.

It is the female—the bland one. She makes a face at the fire, rolling her eyes, and I am not certain if that is directed at me or at something else. Surely she is impressed, just a little? I am the most clever of males to have figured out how to drive resonance. I am the total package—strength and cunning. She should be in awe.

She pauses, and then frowns. Her hand goes to her chest.

Then, I hear her song, too. She is humming with resonance.

She is humming with resonance to me. The realization sends a tickle to my groin and another charge of elation through me.

The human female looks down at her chest. She puts a hand to her heart as if not truly believing the song is coming from her. It only grows stronger, and the tickle in my cock turns into the urge to extrude and thrust. If I grab the female now…

But she makes another strange face, rubbing her chest. “Oh fuck no.”

And she turns and leaves.

Chapter Six

SKARR

We just resonated.

The bland female whose features I cannot recall just resonated to me, the greatest of warriors. There must be something special about her if my khui is selecting her to be my mate, some sort of hidden talent or intelligence that makes her worthy of pairing with me to create incredible offspring.

So why is she leaving? She should be fawning at my feet, eager for my cocks to give her my seed.

I give my chest another thump, waiting for her to return.

Everyone just stares at me with astonishment. Are they stunned that I am the first to resonate? Are the other males going to follow suit and attack each other to get their blood roaring in their veins? But no, everyone only stares in stunned silence.

“Was that…” Kyth, the big moden, finally asks.

“Yes.” I give him a look of triumph, standing straighter. “I have claimed the best of females for my own.” I need to take another good look at her. Perhaps I did not notice her physical attributes before because she was quiet. My khui has noticed something, and that is all that matters.

“I’m not certain she wishes to be yours, brother,” he points out, gazing off into the distance where the female retreated. “She looks like she’s running.”

I frown. “Nonsense. She is beside herself with delight.”

Kyth’s wide mouth draws up in a smile. “If you say so.”

“I do.” He knows nothing. Moden are not bred for their intelligence, after all. They are spliced for their sheer size and endless stamina. He does not know what he is talking about. I scan the encampment, looking for my female, but I have to admit that I have no idea what she looks like. All I recall is that she had hair and eyes, like the other females…and that she must be the best. Frowning to myself, I stride forward, heading for the females that linger on the edge of camp. I will find her and claim her, and all will be well.

Chalath steps forward, lifting his chin at me. “I did not resonate. Fight me again.”

“You did not resonate because you did not impress any of the females,” I point out, continuing forward. “I clearly did.”

“Exactly. So you should fight me again.” He wipes blood from his nose. “I will win this time.”

I snort. Highly unlikely.

Just then, Flor and her mate come running forward. “What the fuck?” Flor cries. “Someone said you guys were fighting? What’s going on? And why is he bleeding?”

“All is well,” I reassure the frantic female, trying not to sound too smug. “I incited violence to ensure resonance.”

Her eyes go wide. “What the fuck?”

“We are gladiators,” I tell her, as if this is not obvious. I raise a bicep and flex it just in case she wishes to admire it. “You said a khui will select the best of males to mate with the best of females. What better way to show a khui that I am the best than to show off my fighting prowess?”

The female stares at me. She turns to her mate and shakes her head. “You handle this.”

“I do not know what there is to handle, my F’lor.” I’rec rubs a hand down his face and scowls at me. “You know this is not how resonance works, yes?”

“It seems to work for me. My hot blood has shown it what a fierce warrior I am. That I am the best.”

“And the most modest,” the female snarks. Then, she looks around the camp. “Okay, I’rec, you handle Skarr here and I’ll go after Vivian.”

I pause, rubbing my thrumming chest. “Who is Vivian?”

The female stares at me. “Your mate, dummy.”

“Ah. She ran off.” I continue to rub my chest, and then wonder if I should rub lower, because parts of my anatomy are definitely aching. I pause. “Should I go find her? Pleasure her? Surely now she will want it, and then I will win the breeding competition.” Already I have a leg up on the others.

The female—F’lor—shakes her head. “You wait here with I’rec. I’ll go find her and talk to her.”

“But I am the one that resonated,” I point out. “I should find her in case she wishes to mount me.”

I’rec snorts, casting a look over at his mate.

F’lor just shakes her head. “Something tells me that isn’t going to be a problem, buddy.”

She steps forward, only for her mate to tug her arm, stopping her. I’rec shakes his head. “No, my mate. He is the one that resonated. Let him go and speak to her. I know you want to help, but you cannot help this.”

“I can talk to her—”