Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“I will take you back if you wish to go.”
I lower my hands, eyeing R’jaal. “You will? Seriously?”
I hadn’t thought of going back. Of just accepting that there’s no one for me here. That I’m not meant to resonate, not meant to be part of the tribe here.
R’jaal’s expression is grave. “If that is what you wish. If you are miserable here, I would take you back.”
That solves one problem at least. “But you…and me…”
The smile he gives me is constipated. “I think we both know our khuis are silent and will remain so.”
Oof. He’s not wrong. “Our khuis suck. You and I got the malfunctioning ones.”
“We have simply not met our mates yet. When it is our time, we will know.” He says this as if it’s just a matter of time. Not that there’s no one else left. Just that the timing isn’t right.
It’s a little ridiculous, and even though I feel cruel for bursting his bubble, I can’t help myself with my response. “And who are we going to resonate to? The rocks? The trees? No, I think you and I are doomed to be alone forever.”
He flinches. “I see.”
God, I’m such a jerk. I reach out and grab his hand. Here he is being kind, and I’m just lashing out. “I’m sorry, R’jaal. I’m not trying to be cruel. It’s just…I’m no longer holding out any hope. This planet has made it quite clear that I’m not welcome. Thank you for being my friend despite all of this, though. It’s good to know I’m not completely alone on the sit-out bench.”
He studies me intently, his head tilting slightly to the side as if he doesn’t quite grasp what I’m saying. It’s the slang, I realize. He doesn’t know what a sit-out bench is. I open my mouth to explain, when all of a sudden, I feel a breeze.
That’s odd. There’s no air circulator in the fruit cave, is there? That’s why it’s always so muggy and humid here, and why I’m wearing nothing but a breast band and a short leather skirt instead of full-on body-covering wraps.
I close my eyes, concentrating and waiting to feel another whiff of a breeze. There’s nothing, though, and when I open them again, R’jaal is still watching me.
Watching me, and his dark black hair is dotted with pollen. How strange. I’ve never seen that before. “You have pollen in your hair, R’jaal. Are there flowers here?”
He doesn’t answer, his expression telling me that he has no idea what I’m talking about. Did he not feel the pollen coating him? I reach out and touch his hair, grazing the beads of pollen that turn to dust that coats my fingers the moment I disturb his mane. I hold my hand out, showing it to him.
A strange, earthy smell touches my nose.
“It does look like pollen,” R’jaal says after a moment, and his words are thoughtful. “Smells like mushrooms.”
Mushrooms? I lift my head to meet his gaze, determined to tell him about the mushroom scent S’bren said he had picked up earlier, but I get stuck on the strange expression on his face. He looks sleepy. Dreamy.
Like he could take a nap, even as a dark, shadowy form emerges from the shadows near the waterfall’s ledge and lifts a horn to his lips. He blows, and another breeze ruffles my hair and more pollen dances in the air around us.
The stranger behind him is no one I’ve seen before. No alien I’ve ever seen before. He’s got dark fur and four arms and a fearsome expression. I should be terrified.
I should warn R’jaal. “They…”
Oh. It’s so hard to spit that one word out.
I try again. “You…”
Black tunnels into my vision, and I realize I’m about to pass out just as my entire body slumps to the ground.
I wake up with a bad taste in my mouth and a chill in my limbs. It’s dark, which seems odd to me. It never gets dark in the fruit cave.
It takes a moment for my brain to wake up and remember that I was kidnapped. That I might not be in the fruit cave any longer.
Panic unfurls in my mind and I lie perfectly still, gazing up at the darkness around me. Not again. Not fucking again. The last time I woke up in a strange place after being knocked out? I ended up on an ice planet. I’d better fucking not be stolen by aliens again. I think I’ll have an absolute meltdown if that’s the case.
Biting my tongue to keep from making any sound, I assess the situation as best I can. I press my hand on the cold floor, and it doesn’t feel like the rough coping stone that surrounds the artificial pool in the cave. I’m not on a bed, either, though, so that means whoever kidnapped me isn’t interested in my comfort. It feels like smooth rock under me, though. That’s…a good sign? I think? Because there wouldn’t be rock flooring in a ship. There’d be metal or plastic or something.