In Search of Home

Chapter 35

Viktor's stomach growled, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He let out a half-hysterical giggle at the noise, glancing up at Nikolas. "Don't suppose I can trouble you for some jerky, can I?" he asked hopefully. 

Nikolas rolled his eyes, getting to his feet and helping Viktor up, "Of course, Viktor."

Nikolas led him around the furniture in the large room, seemingly comfortable in it. Viktor was glad that he seemed to be settling in as well as could. He supposed that Nikolas was right: being a pet couldn't be any worse than the arena. 

He heard a chair scrape behind him suddenly, and he whipped around to see the source of the noise. It was just Vok'Rul, half stood out of the chair. His eyes were still trained on the teenager as he slowly straightened, carefully making less noise this time. Viktor forced himself to turn his back to the alien, quickly jogging after Nikolas. He heard the familiar footsteps of Vok'Rul and the lighter, less familiar footsteps of Sonja trailing after them. 

Viktor ran face-first into Nikolas's back, letting out a soft "oof" as he stumbled back a few steps. Nikolas chuckled and let out a "sorry" that Viktor waved off, hooking a thumb over his shoulder and screwing up his face with a question. The older man shrugged. 

"They are probably wondering where we are going, do not worry. Here, this is my dinner plate," he said the last word a bit dryly, gesturing to the bowl that had a word written on the rim. It was bright blue, decorated with little white flowers. Viktor let out a startled laugh. 

"Dude, what! Aw, Ezekiel would have teased you forever," he chuckled, crouching down to snag a large piece of jerky from the blue bowl. "Dinner plate," he snickered to himself, gnawing off a chunk of the food. "I just have a plain metallic one." 

"Sometimes I wish that I did, too," Nikolas replied dryly, cheeks turning a bit pink. He nudged Viktor with his foot, gesturing for him to cough up a piece. Viktor tossed one up without looking. "At least you are the only one who has seen it." 

"Kohgrash?" Both Viktor and Nikolas turned around, though the older man at a less breakneck speed. Vok'Rul was crouched on the floor behind them, settled against the doorway. The blocked entrance made Viktor a bit uneasy, especially in unfamiliar surroundings. Nikolas nudged him and pointed to a doorway on the opposite wall. It seemed to lead to the kitchen where Vok'Rul and Sonja had been talking earlier. The knot of unease slowly loosened. 

Viktor slowly straightened up, finishing up his piece of jerky in a few quick bites. "What?" he grumbled at the alien, shooting a glare at Nikolas when the man elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow, fine. Jeez." He tried to lose his distrustful stare, forcing his shoulders to drop from his defensive position. 

Vok'Rul seemed happy that he was talking to him, however, and Viktor tried to ignore the twinge of guilt. The alien reached for his waist, and both Viktor and Nikolas flinched. Both humans cleared their throats awkwardly, sharing a humorless smile with each other. Vok'Rul grabbed a small bag from his belt as clearly as possible, slowly telegraphing his movements. Sonja stood behind him, saying something cheerfully. Whatever she said seemed to motivate Vok'Rul even more.

"Pora?" he whispered, his free hand doing the command half-heartedly like he believed it wouldn't work. It was less of a command and more of a question this time, which Viktor appreciated. He heard Nikolas mutter in confused Russian behind him. Viktor took careful steps over to him, stopping when he was just within arm's reach. 

He opened the bag, pulling out one of those purple starfruits. Viktor immediately started salivating. God, he loved that stuff. He figured anything was better than plain jerky and mashed goop, though. 

Vok'Rul took out a piece and held it out for him, looking hopeful. Viktor took it carefully, fingers brushing against Vok'Rul's claws. The same claws that had wrangled him into the carrier earlier today. He was starting to feel the bruises around his arms where he had been grabbed too roughly. They were the same claws that had kept him trapped in that ballroom, unwilling to release him.