I sat down beside her bed and ate the remaining handful of berries and jerky. My rationale for doing this was I didn’t like anything to go to waste. The truth was I liked being close to her, and she didn’t seem to mind.
“Ken u wondersten meh?” She asked me a question with her heat tilted.
I wished I knew what she was saying.
With heavy sigh, she looked away before meeting my gaze again. With a hand over her breast, she said, “Merr-anda.” I frowned at her, and she repeated it again, this time pointed at herself. “Merr-anda.”
I guessed that she was telling me her name, and I liked the sound of it. I would have given anything to let the syllables roll of my tongue. Instead, I only nodded.
She pointed to me and shot me an expectant look. Ah, so I was supposed to tell her my name? I did not know it. Not anymore. That was in the Before, and now I was just a disgraced warrior.
I shrugged, and she sucked in a breath. “U dun no?”
I repeated the shrug and this time shook my head. Something odd passed over her face, and her brown eyes shimmered in the orange light of the setting sun.
“Merr-anda,” she said pointed to herself. Then she placed a hand on my chest, over where my cora beat. “Heart.”
Was she telling me my name? I didn’t think it was Heart, but if that was what she wanted to call me, I’d accept it. I nodded, and her full lips stretched into a smile. I sat transfixed at the way her face changed. The skin at the corners of her eyes crinkled, and small indents notched into her cheeks. She had blunt little teeth—no fangs—and the bottom row was a little crooked. I was fascinated by every one of her features, from her small feet to the tip of her nose.
I was honored that she named me and felt my chest puff out with pride. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been proud of anything or stood tall. But my Merr-anda was changing that.
“Heart,” she said again. Then she held up the empty jug. “Qua.”
I went still. She knew my words. Did that mean she knew the other female? The warriors?
Images hit me hard and fast—battles and blood. A large warrior with a nose ring and dark hair. A cliff overlooking the freshas. Brotherhood and peace. Until the betrayal. My enemy’s face flashed before my eyes like a solar flare, followed by sharp slash across my throat. I growled, grabbing my head as pain sliced through my skull. Memories. Memories always did this.
It was easier not to remember. It was easier to be alone and prepare for the revenge I’d one day seek…
Soft hands landed on my back, and I flinched away with a growl. The hands were insistent, soothing, blanketing the fire raging in my blood. The pain ebbed and I slumped forward on my hands and knees.
Something tugged me onto the furs, and I came willingly. I allowed my body to be arranged and my head to land on a softness. Exhaling, I opened my eyes in the near darkness.
Fingers sifted through my hair, and a rumble in my ear calmed me. My female, Merr-anda—she was talking. My ear rested on her breast as she spoke words in a lilting way I’d never heard before. The sounds drifted up and down, high pitch to low, and I was mesmerized by the sound.
I lifted my head to see her eyes half-closed, her full lips stretching and contracting to form the strange syllables and words. For once, I was glad I couldn’t speak, because I wouldn’t have been able to describe the beautiful sounds.
Finally, she stopped, and smiled at me. “Sengeng,” she said.
I liked this sengeng. I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t work, so I settled for placing her hand at my throat so she could feel the only sound I was able to make, a rumbling vibration I’d never had an urge to utter before. It’d been instinct to do it when she was in distress, and since it helped, I vowed to do it as often as I could.
She kept smiling, and I laid down once again on her chest, listening to her cora beat strong and steady against my ear.
Miranda
He was a cuddler. Or something. I couldn’t believe it. He had all the instincts of a Drixonian warrior, but he didn’t seem to understand why. He cared for me, yet he was wary.
He’d slept on me all night with his head on one breast and his palm curled possessively around my other one. His tail rested over my legs and looped around my hip. If he was literally anyone else, I would have kneed him in the balls for taking such liberties, but this was … not bad. Sort of nice. He cradled my breast delicately. What was this silent alien doing to me? I should have been shoving the big lug off me.
About seventy-percent of my body was numb from his weight, but I was loathe to wake him, even though I was hungry, had to pee, and now the sun was up, I felt like I was in a sauna. But no, I didn’t move, because I felt bad waking him up.
When had I ever felt bad waking up anyone?
Never.
I thought most Drixonians slept half-awake and alert, but this one was like a rock on my chest, snoozing away. It would have been kind of cute if he wasn’t a half-Neanderthal living in a tree who didn’t talk. Our only communication relied on reading each other’s auras, and he seemed to be alarmed every time I had a sudden one.
I’d decided to call him Heart because that was what he was to me—all heart. Cheesy, but seeing as he either didn’t have a name or refused to tell it to me, that was what I was going with. He was like Mowgli and I kept expecting a pack of wolves or monkeys to come out of the trees and claim him as family.
His reaction last night when I’d said ‘qua’ had been startling. One of my uncles served in the Vietnam War, and Heart’s episode had been so reminiscent of my uncle’s flashbacks caused by PTSD. His reaction killed me and even though I knew the risks of touching him, I couldn’t help it. He’d been so … wounded.
My aunt would always sing to my uncle, so that was the first thing I thought of to soothe him and bring him back with my voice. I hadn’t sung anything important really—just “Lean on Me.” But he’d settled almost immediately, and when he’d placed my hand on his throat, I’d nearly cried.
I felt oddly protective of him. Not in a physical way, since he was obviously the most capable between us, even if my leg had been healed, but in an emotional way. He wasn’t … okay. I got that from his aura and from the way he huddled in on himself. He was a massive guy, yet he rarely stood up straight and proud.
I had so many questions—how did he get his scar? Why couldn’t he talk? Why was he alone and living in a damned tree?
I ran my hands over the scales on his upper back, marveling at the texture of them, almost like velour-coated steel. As close as I’d been to many Drixonians, I didn’t touch them often. Most of the ones I interacted with on a daily basis were taken, and the other ones—well I didn’t want them to get ideas I was on the market.
I supposed I was off the market now. I lifted my wrist to marvel at the marks. They were in a swirly pattern, and they almost reminded me of flowers. I had to admit, they looked badass on my skin tone. But still, I hadn’t wanted these. I hadn’t wanted to leave my big, annoying, lovable family on Earth either, but that was what had happened when I went to bed one night and woke up on a damn spaceship.
I’d sort of come to terms with the fact I wouldn’t see Earth or my family again. Sometimes the grief still hit me at odd times, and I’d wake to break down when I was alone in bed. I wanted to be strong for the women here and lead by example. It was what I’d done all my life, and old habits were hard to break.