“That’s what I said,” Jax replies, deadpan. “Earthling.”
“Kricket.” Wayra insists upon my attention, like he’s trying to teach me something, “We’re not human or animal. Jax—” he points at him menacingly “—weren’t you supposed to teach her about anatomy? This is getting ridiculous.”
Trey ignores Wayra, saying, “We have something to combat their sensors, Kricket. You don’t have to worry.” He comes to me and leads me to a quiet place to rest while we wait until dark.
Nestling against Trey’s side, I fall into an exhausted sleep. I awake with my head resting on Trey’s thigh. He’s stroking my hair, watching the other Cavars move around the tunnel. As I sit up, I hear a soft nicker outside. Curious, I rise to my feet, walking stiffly over to the mouth of the smaller tunnel. I duck my head, crouching as I walk nearer to the grate covering the opening. Outside in the field, hundreds of spixes roam the meadow grazing on the lush, thick grass that is the type of green one sees in pictures of Ireland, but that don’t exist in Chicago.
“Have you named any of them yet?” Trey teases as he crouches down behind me.
“That one”—I point to a huge beast of a spix—“I’m calling Flea. And that one”—I point to the white spix with brown socks—“will henceforth be known as Compost. And that little one over there—”
“The plump one?” he asks.
“No, the really little one next to Scoundrel; the one with the short horns.”
“I see it—the docile one,” he whispers in my ear. His nearness is causing my insides to do backflips.
“That one is Raging Bull.”
Trey chuckles. “I love you.” He presses his lips to my cheek. “And to prove it . . .” He pulls out the gifts that I was given at our engagement announcement.
“You brought the venish!” I say with delight. We sit down opposite each other with our backs to the circular walls as Trey unwraps the meat pie and hands it to me. I take a bite, finding it delicious. Breaking off a piece, I hold it up to Trey’s lips for him to eat. He looks at me for a moment, surprised by the offering, but then he leans forward. Opening his mouth, he allows me to feed him.
“Yum. Venish,” I coo, chewing greedily. “Wayra’s the best when it comes to food.” I break off another piece, feeding it to Trey as he watches me hungrily.
The next time I feed him, my fingertip slips into his mouth along with the morsel. He sucks it softly. Immediately, my insides riot as my abdomen clenches tightly. I stop chewing and swallow. Setting aside the nearly empty tin, I lean forward; Trey meets me halfway. The next thing I know, I’m straddling his thighs with my arms wrapped around him. His hands are running over my back, while his tongue strokes and teases mine.
“Ahem.” A clearing of a throat at the other end of the narrow tunnel makes us break apart abruptly. Glancing in that direction, I see Drex and Hollis with their backs to us. Drex says over his shoulder, “We need to get in there and cut the grate off or we’ll fall behind schedule, Gennet.”
“Of course,” Trey says absently, while running a hand through his mussed-up hair to try to straighten it. “We’ll move.”
With as much dignity as we can muster, we put our little feast back in Trey’s pack and move out of the way of the soldiers. After they enter the smaller tunnel and begin cutting the iron tie bars away, Trey leans near my ear. “We might have a problem. I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you.”
“That’s a problem?” I ask, biting my lip and trying not to laugh.
“That question shouldn’t make me as happy as it does,” he replies.
“Shouldn’t it?” I tease him.
“Stop distracting me,” he admonishes with a sensual smile and a quick kiss. “I have to help unload the supplies from the hovercycles. Stay here and try not to get into any trouble.”
“Leave the venish.” I smile, bouncing a little bit as I suck in my bottom lip so that I won’t grin like a total fool. He hands me the small pack with yet another kiss. I watch him move away.
I shouldn’t be happy; I know that. The entire world is one big series of scary events, but right now, at this moment, I’m having a hard time focusing on all that. I just want to live in this moment—in these seconds—with Trey. I know it’s wrong. I know when it ends there will be no soft landing.
In no time at all, all the gear is unloaded from the hovercycles. Dusk is quickly turning to darkness when Trey joins me. “Wayra and I are going to gather the transport. It shouldn’t take long.”
I lose any hint of a smile I had. “What? You’re leaving?”
“I’ll be back in less than a part.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He leads me to the mouth of the smaller tunnel once more. “You see the roof of that building over there?” he asks.
I nod, fear turning my stomach. “Yeah. It looks like a barn of some kind.”
“Wayra, Fenton, and I are going there to gather spixes. I know the owner. I’ve worked with him for many floans—he’s a family friend. We’ll bring the spixes back here, load up the gear, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Ohh . . . no. No, no.” I shake my head. “That’s not a good plan.” I clutch his forearm. “We need a trift—or a skiff. Spixes are unpredictable. You can’t just put fuel in them to make them go.”
Trey smiles like I made a joke, but I’m completely serious. “Kricket, no technology means the Alameeda can’t find us easily. That’s why we were so successful at avoiding them in the Forest of O. We didn’t use anything they could track. It will be nearly impossible to hide from them as it is. They can employ aircraft and satellites at will here.”
Everything he is saying is true. “Okay,” I agree, “that makes sense. I’ll help—I’ll go with you.”
“Wayra, give me a fleat,” Trey says to the waiting Cavars. Leading me away from the opening, he takes me to a quiet place by the hovercycles. Raising his eyebrow in a questioning look, he asks, “I need you to stay here while I do this. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because we always stay together.”
“There are going to be instances where it will be better to have you remain in a safe place while I scout ahead. Are we going to have an argument every time something like this comes up?”
I point my finger at him. “Don’t make me sound like a crazy, clingy girlfriend,” I retort. “This isn’t the same thing.”