Zane's eyes snapped open, his gaze piercing the darkness, searching for the elusive threads of a dream that had vanished into the ether. His chest heaved with a ragged breath, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of a dream that had left him breathless. An ethereal female beast, with a purr that was both familiar and yet, utterly foreign, had haunted his slumber. The memory of her lingered, a tantalizing whisper that refused to be silenced. As he lay sprawled out on his bed, his enormous cock stood at attention, throbbing like a sword unsheathed and ready for battle. The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the room, and Zane's eyes drifted shut, his mind conjuring the sultry, feminine rattle that had echoed through his dream. His fist closed around his cock, the motion almost involuntary, as he chased the fleeting sensation of release. His abs, honed from years of training, rippled beneath his skin, tightening as he hurtled towards the precipice of release. He gripped himself in long deliberate strokes, his imagination returning to that female purr from his dream. His muscles tensed as his cock spilled over the edge. The sound that escaped his lips was a guttural groan, a primal release of tension that seemed to shake the very foundations of his being. As the last shudders of his climax faded, Zane's eyes remained closed, his body sated, yet his mind still reaching for the elusive threads of his dream. He willed himself to fall back into slumber, to recapture the essence of that female beast, to lose himself in the depths of her rattle once more. But as the golden rays of dawn peaked through the window, illuminating the contours of his room, Zane's resolve crumbled. He couldn't afford to sleep through training, not when it was the one time he could be certain of seeing Ace. His thoughts soured at the memory of their last encounters, her eyes flashing with anger, her words laced with venom. He had royally fucked up, and now she barely deigned to acknowledge his presence. Yet, even as his heart ached with regret, Zane found himself craving the moments they shared during training. It was a fragile, tenuous connection, one that consisted mostly of eye rolls and insults, but it was better than nothing. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his movements brisk and decisive, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He would face whatever lay ahead, no matter how daunting, if it meant a chance to be near her, to perhaps, just perhaps, redeem himself in her eyes. As Zane donned his cream and silver Viya fighting leathers, the supple leather molded to his physique, accentuating the chiseled lines of his body. He was a warrior, forged in the crucible of battle, his muscles honed to a razor's edge. Every step he took was a testament to his discipline, his movements fluid and deliberate as he navigated the chamber halls. His eyes, narrowed against the morning light, scanned the corridors, his gaze lingering on the door to Ace's room. Passing her room was a daily ritual, one he had grown accustomed to, the sweet, heady scent of her wafting up to greet him like a siren's call. But today, something was off. The air was heavy with the musk of male, the pungent aroma mingling with Ace's own scent, transforming it into something primal, something raw. Zane's nostrils flared, his lips curling into a snarl as he paused before her door. The heat rising within him threatened to consume him whole. His muscles tensed, coiling like a spring, as his body prepared for battle. His fists clenched at his sides, the knuckles white with rage, as he struggled to contain the fury that seethed within him. Ace's scent, once a gentle breeze that soothed his savage soul, now reeked of something far more primal. It was the smell of fucking, of raw, unbridled fucking, and it enraged him. His mind recoiled at the thought of another male claiming her, of another's hands touching her skin, of another's lips tasting her kiss. The very idea was an affront to his senses, a challenge to his dominance, and Zane's instincts screamed for him to act, to claim her as his own, to mark her with his scent and his bite. For a moment, he stood there, frozen in a tableau of rage, his body a coiled spring waiting to unleash its fury upon the world. The air around him seemed to vibrate with tension, as if the very fabric of reality was waiting to see what he would do next. And then, with a deliberate slowness, Zane's chest rose and fell, his breathing steady, as he mastered his emotions, his face a mask of calm, his eyes burning with a fire that threatened to consume all of Numariya. Centuries of training and discipline had honed Zane's instincts, allowing him to rein in the primal rage that threatened to consume him. He knew that bursting into Ace's room, driven by his baser instincts, would only serve to drive her further away. So, with a Herculean effort, he gathered his composure, his chest heaving with suppressed emotion, and turned away from her door. But the scent that lingered in the air, a potent reminder of what he had just detected, left him reeling. If this was to become a regular occurrence, he needed to take precautions, to find a way to shield himself from the constant torment of Ace's scent, now tainted by the presence of another male. With a sense of purpose, Zane made his way to Sorelle's room, his footsteps echoing through the corridor. He knocked on the door, his knuckles rapping out a staccato beat, and waited for her response. The door creaked open, and Sorelle stood before him, her strawberry blonde hair a tangled mess, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She wore a pastel orange silk nightgown that clung to her curves like a second skin, the fabric shimmering in the morning light.

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Before she could speak, Zane's words tumbled out in a distraught tone, his emotions raw and unbridled. "Sorelle, I need to speak with you."

Sorelle's eyes widened, and she opened the door further, revealing Valen, who was lacing up his boots in the corner of the room. Zane's gaze flicked to the other male, and he felt a pang of unease, his instincts screaming at him to retreat.

But Sorelle's voice, soft and soothing, reassured him. "It's okay, Zane. Valen was just leaving."

As Valen strode towards the door, his eyes met Zane's, a spark of suspicion igniting within them. The air was heavy with tension, the silence between them thick and oppressive. Valen's gaze lingered on Zane, his expression a mask of hostility, before he turned and walked out of the room. As Valen disappeared into the corridor, his thoughts turned dark and twisted, fueled by jealousy and possessiveness. He recalled Sorelle's origins, her roots in the polyamorous region of Svadhi, and a paranoid whisper began to weave its way through his mind. The thought of Zane touching Sorelle, of him claiming her as his own, was a spark that ignited a fire of rage within him. His fists clenched at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest, as he struggled to contain the emotions that threatened to consume him. Valen turned, noticing Zane enter Sorelle’s room.

As the door closed behind him, Zane stepped into Sorelle's room, his eyes adjusting to the soft, golden light that spilled from the candles that lit the space.

Sorelle regarded him with a curious expression as she wrapped herself in a flowing robe, her strawberry blonde hair still tangled from sleep. "What's up Zane?"

Zane's voice, laced with defeat and hesitation, was a stark contrast to his usual confident tone. "Svadhians have conquered jealousy, correct?"

Sorelle's eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing as she searched for the reason behind Zane's question. "They have, why?"

Zane's eyes dropped, his shoulders sagging in embarrassment. "Is that something that I could learn? Something you could teach me?"

Sorelle's lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Is this about Ace?" she teased, her voice dripping with knowing.

Zane's face flushed, his stuttering attempts to deny the accusation only serving to confirm Sorelle's suspicions. "No... I mean... I think it would help me. Conquering such a primal emotion would help me be a better leader for the Viyan Valtareans."

Sorelle's smirk deepened, her eyes sparkling with mirth. She wasn't fooled by Zane's feeble attempts to justify his desire to overcome jealousy. But she commended him for his willingness to confront his emotions, to strive for self-improvement. And she knew that if he could indeed conquer his jealousy, it would make everyone around him more comfortable.

"Sure, I can teach you," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Come to the library after training, and we'll train that mind of yours."

Zane's face relaxed, his shoulders sagging in relief as he let out a soft sigh. He thanked Sorelle, his eyes shining with gratitude, and she smiled, her expression softening. As he turned to leave, Zane's thoughts strayed to the library, to the prospect of seeing Ace more often. He wasn't sure if she'd be a distraction to his purpose, but he was willing to take the risk. And besides, having a plan, a way to work towards reigning in his raw masculinity, was a start. With a quiet apology for waking her up, Zane bid Sorelle farewell, promising to see her at breakfast, and left her room, the door closing softly behind him.