Something--a thin thread of cologne on the wind, the minute rustling of pine needles under paws, the unmistakable pressure of someone else's curious gaze--jerked Skrillex from his morose musings with the efficiency of a choke-chain around his throat. Lungs inhaled sharply and kept their air prisoner as the black-splashed carnivore glanced up from the ground; ebony hackles spiked along a suddenly rigid spine; talons unconsciously clenched the earth, ready to launch Skrilly toward fight or flight. In less than a second his venomous green eyes locked on the pallid form of a stranger watching him from a short distance. Watching as if he couldn't decide whether or not to leave Skrillex alone or sink his fangs into his flesh. Who . . . ? By the time Skrillex's senses had decoded the stamp of Andere Seite on the stranger's bloodstained pelt a defensive snarl was already rippling over the dark prince's muzzle. Technically this menacing young brute was pack . . . yet Skrillex had never met him, and the opposite male had obviously never encountered Skrillex until now. Their "pack bond" meant practically nothing if a surprise action ignited the tinder of tension between them now. Skrillex might have been a soft-hearted coward, but he'd defend himself violently if necessary . . .

He'd done it before. Damn that awful shred of resilience clinging to his worthless soul! If only the masked monster knew how similar he and the stranger were beneath their veneers of apathy and teeth. Then he might have greeted the hunger-stricken vampire with an understanding smile instead of acidic pools narrowed in distrust. They might even have sat down to swap stories, Skrillex ruefully recounting the day his pack chose to exterminate the demon who showed his love with fangs while the russet-eyed lad spilled the sorrows of his own heart. But Skrillex didn't know the fledgling viper. And so his every pitiful instinct of self-preservation screamed for him to stand on guard against the obvious presence of a predator.

What would happen if the two gladiators went at it right now? Skrillex's past said that gory outcomes weren't entirely off the table if strain was high enough--and the other gentleman's detached comportment suggested that he was no stranger to frigid pack dynamics either. Neither of them possessed a background that'd make an in-territory battle unthinkable. Cade might not even care--and JUST as that disturbing notion passed its shadow over Skrillex's mind, the saucy Alphess herself materialized by the bloody brute's side.

"Cade!" Skrillex barked out her name as if a wasp had stung his backside, the anxiety in his tight chest turning each second into a tenuous pre-tussle twitch. The first time he'd seen Cade, Skrillex had experienced a brief moment of gut-twisting horror, thinking she resembled a fae he'd accidentally murdered mere minutes before intruding on Andere's border. Only the Queen's striking scarlet markings differentiated her from that unfortunate female: Cade was painted like the beasts that stalked her kingdom, an Empress of Blood.

"I wasn't--I haven't been--" Skrillex's stare flitted between Cade and the younger snake (NeMO?) as he wrestled his words in order. Finally he blew a long-suffering breath through his nose. "I haven't been meaning to hide, your highness." He threw another mistrustful green-apple glare at NeMO. "I've just been keeping to myself. Same as everyone, it would seem."