Page 24 of Claimed By the Krijese

“I only know what I was told by the sisters at the orphanage who raised me and that was my parents didn’t know how to care for me.”

“What is an orphan…age?” I say the word slowly.

“It’s a giant building that houses children without any families. The people who run it are called nuns. They’re a devoted group of women who worship God and never have children of their own, which doesn’t make them the greatest people to raise them.”

“These are the females who told you your gogo and momo could not care for you?” Sorin asks.

“Yes.”

He is quiet a moment longer before speaking again. “I do not like those females that raised you, nor do I like your gogo and momo.”

I do not either. What kind of parent gives away their kit? When Sorin was born, I did not know how to care for him, but I learned. Mistakes were made, but with each one, I gained knowledge and could improve.

“Thank you for being so protective of me, but now that I’m an adult, I can understand why they did what they did. It’s hard enough on the bottom tier to take of oneself. We never have enough credits to pay for our homes, let alone the protein bars required so we don’t starve. Add in a special needs child, and it can be nearly impossible. That part of Earth is difficult to survive, and it is unkind to people perceived as ‘different’,” Iris says. “I used to be angry they abandoned me, but I don’t hate them for it. Not anymore. I truly believe they did what they thought was best for me. At the orphanage I had a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in. That’s more than some people who live in the bottom tier can say.”

What Iris says makes sense, but that still does not mean I like the fact she grew up with a momo or gogo to love and take care of her. Sorin’s momo nor I know much about affection, but every turn I learn more, and I hope my kit knows he is cared about by me.

“Then I am sorry you did not have a gogo like mine who makes sure you always have food to eat and who teaches you how to throw a war axe or who takes you to the Tavikhi village where your friends live so you have someone to play with,” Sorin says.

Iris sniffs, and I glance over my shoulder. The wetness is back in her eyes, only she does not wipe it away this time. Instead, a single droplet spills down her cheek, leaving a wet trail.

“Thank you, Sorin.”

I come to a stop and turn to wait until they reach me. Unsure of what compels me, I reach out and brush my thumb across her flesh, taking care not to scratch her with my claw. Iris widens her eyes, and her cheek darkens in color, along with her neck and the top of her chest, barely visible over the covering she wears.

“What does this wetness mean?”

She takes in a shuddering breath and my gaze drifts down to her chest. The mounds she possess change shape and develop a hard point in the center. I lift my eyes to meet hers, and there is an unfamiliar emotion swirling in their depths. A new scent joins the one that is all Iris. Except it is not a scent I have never smelled before, only not as strongly.

“They’re called tears.”

I blink, because I have been lost in her gaze and forgot I even asked a question.“Tears?”

She nods. “Humans release tears which is called crying. We cry for a lot of different reasons. It might mean we’re sad or happy or in pain.”

“Humans do this crying when they are sad and when they are happy? How do you know which is which?”

She laughs lightly. “You can usually tell.”

“Were you happy or sad just now?”

“Maybe a little of both.”

I cock my head, because I do not understand how one can be both happy and sad at the same time. Iris reaches out a hand and lays it on my arm. A strange sensation races along my flesh and a throbbing pulses within my sac.

“Humans are a confusing species, I know.” Iris smiles broadly exposing her teeth.

Those are my favorite kind from her.

“I do not want you to be sad,” Sorin speaks up.

She draws her hand away from me and turns to my kit, but I can still feel her touch linger. “I’ll try my best not to be sad then. How about that?”

“All right.”

Before I say or do anything I might regret—like stroke her soft skin again—I beckon them to keep moving since we are nearly to the clearing where I have set up the practice target. Through the break in the trees up ahead, I spot it. We step out into the open and I pull my war axe from its sheath strapped to my back.

“This is where we will practice.” I turn toward Iris. “I will demonstrate first how to stand and the position you should place your body in to prepare to throw.”

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