By K.D. Wentworth
Frankly, he hottest people. Rescued from a slave marketplace through a human dealer and raised as his son, one query has haunted Heyoka Blackeagle over the years: who - and what - is he? He feels human, certainly he sounds like a a bit alienated member of his father's tribe. So what if he's seven ft tall, bushy, and built with retractable claws? Human is as human does...Right?
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Extra resources for Black on Black
The thin silver bracelets on her arm jangled as she gestured toward the door. “In fact, do not send a messenger jit—it might stray, and due to your bungling, we have no time to waste. ” Khea’s black eyes glittered angrily up at Seska, then the cubling gazed down again. ” Her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, but Seska caught the undercurrents. I told you, Khea’s stiffened young body said, as well as the reckless tilt of her ears. I warned you that it would die. And so she had, again and again, and still it remained the cubling’s fault.
Chytt much preferred the taller, more graceful build—like her own—that had come to characterize Qartt bloodlines in the past seasons. Anger was written into the stance of every pale-ginger hair on Fik’s body. She sank stiffly to her knees before Chytt’s cushions. ” Laying her ears back, Chytt tossed the tough mizb core into a dish. ” Fik did not look up. ” The tension between them charged the air with electricity. Chytt felt her own fur stir with its intensity, and she wrinkled her nose at the sharpening odor of Fik’s coat which was not the acridness of fear exactly, nor the hot rawness of unbridled aggression either, but a muddle somewhere in between.
A wave of expectancy beat at him from the watching faces. The sharp angle of their heads and the narrow focus of their gaze indicated they were waiting for him to make the proper move, to do—something. The air was thick with hrinn musk as he tried to infer the correct response. The dark-gray’s eyes glittered as he stared up at the torch flames above his head, then Heyoka understood—he was supposed to take up the remaining torch. He set his jaw and stepped around Nisk, trying not to limp, steadied himself on his good leg before the second torch, which leaned crazily to one side, reached to— Without warning, Nisk blocked his hand with an outstretched arm.