Gideon watches Trey and me from his seat across from Trey’s. His eyes rest on our hands clasped together. He’s studying me with a fascinated expression, like he’s never seen anyone who looks like me before. “You’re such an odd mix—Alameeda and Rafe…almost impossible to believe.”
“Her mother was an ambassador of Alameeda and her father is royalty. He always says that he’s never met a more intriguing woman in all of his rotations than her mother,” Trey replies easily. “They committed to each other and they now live in the Valley of Thistle.”
“I hear that Thistle is grand,” Gideon says while still studying me. “They hold the spix races there, don’t they?” he asks.
“They do. You should come with your family. We’d love to host you,” Trey says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder familiarly as I lean my cheek against his chest. “Wouldn’t we, Kitten?”
“Mmm,” I nod. “That sounds like a dream.”
“Is that where you held your commitment ceremony? In Thistle, Kricket?” Gideon asks me kindly.
“Yes…Thistle. It’s very lovely this time of…uh, now,” I end, aware that I almost said “year.” Trying to cover my near slip, I add, “You know…I studied human culture…it’s a little obsession of mine, so I wanted to model my commitment ceremony after a traditional human wedding.”
“Really?” Gideon’s rust-colored eyebrows rise in question. “What did you do?”
“Oh…well, it was magical…wasn’t it, Trey?” I ask him, peering up at his eyes and seeing him nod slowly. “We wanted to keep it simple, so we hosted it in the back yard of our estate…and my mother said that the gazebo in the garden would be a perfect place to say the vows. We decorated it with wildflowers, but we didn’t use any Znous because they have turbine worms in them.”
Several of the soldiers sitting near us laugh, like I made a joke. Realizing that they’re listening too, I blush a little, before continuing. “I wore a white gown and Trey wore a black suit and we wrote our own vows to each other.”
“What do humans promise, when they say their vows?” he asks, seeming to be enjoying my story.
“Ah, well, traditionally, the bride—that’s the female, would promise to love, honor, cherish, and obey her consort, but Trey knows I’m way too independent to obey all the time…” I hear the soldiers around me cracking up again, probably remembering the scene by the waterfall. Looking next to me, I see Jax trying hard to keep a straight face.
Straightening in my seat and seeing the cargo door closing, blocking out any hope of escaping, I continue, “Trey knows what an oddball I am—how I don’t seem to think like other females my age. So instead of the traditional vows, I told him that when we first met…I felt like a butterfly trapped in a net.”
The door closes with a loud thump. I close my eyes briefly, before opening them and laying my hand on Trey’s gently, trying to cover the fact that fear is making me shake again.
“But…I told him that the more time that I spent with him, the more I began to realize how much he means to me. I told him that since it seems to be my destiny to dodge raindrops…I was grateful to be dodging them with him. So, I promised him that it would always be his name on my mind when I start my rotation…and when I go to bed each evening…and every quiet moment in between. It will be his name…savored on my lips…stretched across my heart…worshipped by my body…and branded in my mind…until death do us part…and forever after that.”
I feel Trey take my hand as he raises it to his lips, kissing my fingers gently.
“Do ya have a sister?” the soldier with the fiery-red hair near Wayra asks, getting nudges and laughs from his friends around him. I shake my head, feeling a blush stain my cheeks right before the entire compartment lurches upward like an insane carnival ride, making me feel like my stomach dropped to my feet.
“Ugh,” I groan, closing my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Gideon asks with concern.
“Nothing, I just hate that part,” I reply, trying to make it sound like I’ve done this before. Then, the compartment walls begin contorting, caving in on us like a garbage compactor. My heart lurches into my throat, feeling my seat move forward toward Wayra and Gideon, like some ugly, funhouse ride. It stops a short distance in front of Wayra’s seat. He winks at me and my eyes shoot from his as a rumble, like thunder, shakes the craft. I pull my hand from Trey’s, gripping the straps of the belts crisscrossing my body.
When the noise dissipates, Trey whispers in my ear, “This is normal.”
“For who?”
Hearing his deep laugh, I clench my teeth. As I glare up at him, he’s watching me with a sexy glint in his eyes that I haven’t seen there before. My body reacts to his sultry stare, as a heightening awareness of him makes my skin feel electric.
Feeling the craft rocket forward, it’s only a few minutes before the ALV begins a rapid descent. Like an elevator whose cable had been cut, we plummet toward the ground; the vehicle trembles and shutters from the velocity and force being exerted upon it. Squeezing my eyes shut, Trey rests his enormous hand on my thigh, distracting me momentarily from the fact that we’re going to be flattened when we hit the ground. Peeking at Trey, I try to pry his hand from my leg, but he’s not letting me.
The craft distorts again, widening and taking me back away from Wayra, who winks at me again as the wall and seats straighten out to their original positions. As we touch down, I notice that I have a death grip on Trey’s finger, one of the ones resting on my thigh. Easing my hand away, I say quietly in Trey’s ear, “Do you mind?”
“Do I mind, what?”
“Your hand is on my thigh. You’re touching me. Isn’t touching bad?” I ask, remembering his etiquette lesson.
“You’re my consort. I’m supposed to touch you,” he replies in a low tone, his cheek brushing mine. Heat flushes through me at the caress.
Glancing at the soldiers around me, they’re all watching us like cats watch a birdcage. “You don’t have to oversell it.”
“Hmm?” Trey smiles at me as the cargo door opens, releasing air and pressure from the interior of the craft.
“Shh,” I hush him, holding my breath in anticipation of the first sight of my new civilization.
CHAPTER 11
COMANTRE CROSSES
As the ramp deploys from the ALV, I scan the exterior, seeing that we’re in some sort of military compound. The first thing I notice, stepping out of the transport, is that the air is cooler. The sticky, tropical atmosphere that I’ve grown accustomed to in the last few days has lost the sweltering edge. It’s like this area is climate controlled, not too hot or too cold or too humid.
Although the weather is temperate, the very air is electric with activity as soldiers file here and there on their way to whatever duty they have to fulfill. Enormous vehicles with long claw-like, robotic arms are off-loading cargo from airships in the same area where we are debarking. Facing the gaping, retractable door to the fortress, a small shiver escapes me. It’s sleek and high-tech, modern architecture with old world accents. It’s like space station meets medieval gothic fortress. Windows, like arrow slits, line the exterior walls, forming crosses in the perfectly mortared, metallic gray façade. Defensible parapets tower above our heads, patrolled by more well-armed Comantre Syndics.