Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Auden”—Remi’s voice wasn’t all human—“I don’t want to push you after what you just experienced, but we have to talk.”
Her muscles threatened to spasm, they’d gone so tight. “Yes.” It came out a whisper as she thought frantically about how to explain what had happened without coming across as brain damaged. Her baby couldn’t afford for Auden to be seen as weak, as prey. “I need to wash my face.”
“I’ll stay out here. Unless…how sensitive are you? To what you pick up, I mean? Will my presence inside leave strong impressions?”
“Imprints,” she found herself saying—because no one in her life had ever been interested in her ability. “We call them imprints.”
“Right, imprints.” He nodded at the cooler. “You seemed to go into something like a seizure when you touched the handle. Rigid body, eyes shifting to black.”
“It’s better if you stay here,” Auden said, rather than thinking about the image he’d sketched for her. It did sound like a seizure, a bad one. Maybe that was why she had no memory of their conversation, or even of accepting the cooler from him—the seizure had disrupted her neurons, wiped them clean.
Once inside her cabin, she made quick work of washing up. The eyes that looked back at her from the mirror remained that pale Shoshanna blue, so unexpected and striking against the rich dark of Auden’s skin tone.
Shoshanna blue.
That was how she’d always thought of them, these eyes her mother’s enduring stamp on Auden. She shouldn’t have them—the genetic calculations done before her birth had put the probability of her inheriting her father’s brown eyes at ninety-nine point eight percent.
Shoshanna, however, had never liked to lose.
So now when Auden looked at herself, she saw the same eyes that had always been cold and disinterested when deigning to look in Auden’s direction, and icily calculating the rest of the time.
One last laugh on Shoshanna’s part.
The rest of Auden’s face was hollow, her skin pallid. Only her hair remained undisturbed and pristine in its tight bun at the back of her head, the strands sleeked over her head with a precision that she’d taught herself as a teenager.
As a preteen—when she’d finally been permitted to choose her own style—she’d worn a short, curly crop pushed back with combs. At least in her father’s house. Outside and at Shoshanna’s, she’d been expected to go to the hairdresser and get her hair put into a contained style that would be considered “professional” among the Psy.
Auden had never understood what her curls had to do with professionalism.
Pushing away from the sink, she dried off, then went to her small kitchen area and mixed up a nutrient drink. The last thing she felt like doing was eating, but her stomach was rumbling, which meant that her child had to be hungry, too. At least the liquid was a cold balm against the abused tissues of her throat.
She emerged to an empty clearing.
Disappointment was a lead weight in her gut, her abrupt loneliness hurting parts of her she hadn’t known could hurt. But meshed with the hurt was a shaking sense of relief. Now, she wouldn’t have to deal with his questions, wouldn’t have to think of more lies.
It was hard to lie to someone who had held you while you cried, his big body a protective embrace.
Fingers trembling, she drank more of the nutrients, but was only halfway through the glass when the trees rustled and Remi emerged holding two slender metallic cases.
Her lungs expanded, the world back in Technicolor. “What are those?”
“We usually throw a couple of these folding chairs in the back of our vehicles.” Opening one case, he quickly assembled it into a comfortable-appearing seat. “I’m likely to be the only one who’s touched it for a while,” he told her. “They don’t get much use—it’s pretty much only if we go down to the town to watch a game. A few of the juveniles have joined local leagues.”
Auden went to the chair and reached out a single careful finger. One brush and—
—excitement, Remi’s excitement—
—fur, small hands, tiny paws, and a waving tail—
—sweet things, liquid spilled—
—family—
—worry, directed at Auden—
The ache inside her spread, so deep that it threatened all she thought she knew of the world. “Yes,” she whispered. “I can sit in this.”
Sit in it and pretend that she was part of that happy family where children felt safe enough to clamber into an adult’s lap, their trust a sweet thread that resonated with her maternal heart…and where this leopard alpha meant it when he seemed to care about her, his protectiveness embracing her as fiercely as it embraced his pack.
His imprint whispered that he did mean it, but that was a fleeting kiss, a momentary burst of concern that might be directed at any pregnant woman alone in the forest.
It wasn’t about Auden herself.