Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 130081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
She had a white cloth around her slender neck too—a kind of bandage, maybe? For a moment he had a brief, violent image of wrapping his fingers around a slim throat and squeezing as hard as he could. Had he done something to her? Tried to hurt her? Fuck…
“You don’t have to trust me when I say I’m real,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “But you can trust your senses. Think about it—the images that the AllFather showed you were just that—images. There were no sounds or smells or tastes or touch associated with them. So I’ll ask you to concentrate on the physical stimuli around you. The warmth and wetness of the pool…the soft sound of the wind sighing in the caverns and the faint humming of the glow blossoms…the feeling of my hands supporting you. Feel all these things, Nate, and trust your senses.”
Nate looked up at her and did as she said. He didn’t know why he was willing to do it—maybe she’d broken though a tiny bit of the barrier he’d built around himself since the Scourge invasion. Maybe she’d found a tiny chink in his carefully crafted armor. But he found himself listening to the glowing flowers—they did make a soft, musical hum…and feeling the warm waves of the pool lap against his body and the softness of her hand supporting his head…
There was a faint scent too—a warm, fresh, feminine fragrance that teased his nose and made him want to get closer to her for some reason. God, he’d never smelled anything like it—was that coming from her? From Lan’ara? If so, it was the most amazing perfume he’d ever smelled.
After a long moment, Lan’ara let out a soft, relieved sigh.
“Ah…I feel the calm overcoming some of your fear. Good, Nate…that’s very good.”
“Will you let me go now?” he asked. “I’ll stay right here if you do—I won’t try to escape.”
She frowned down at him.
“I can’t help knowing when you’re lying, you know,” she said mildly. “I am an Empath Kindred—I can sense everything you feel.”
Nate sighed restlessly.
“Fine—I’ll probably look for a way out of here. I need to get back to Earth—I was a leader in the resistance. They need me there.”
“That fight is over for you now,” Lan’ara said softly. “The Kindred are working to free your home world from the Scourge. Our weapons are far superior to yours, so there is no need for you to go back.”
Nate glared up at her as the anger surged in him again.
“Earth is my home and those fuckers are trying to destroy it! Of course I have to go back!”
Lan’ara winced, almost as though he’d struck her.
“Please, Nate…you were just beginning to be calm. I am not asking you to give up the fight for your home world completely—only to join it from a different place—from the Kindred Mother Ship. Two of your friends are there already, you know,” she added. “Oliver and Simon are living aboard the Mother Ship, mated to my colleagues, Commander Bairdida and Commander Sylvania.”
Nate felt a shock of surprise go through him.
“What? I thought they were killed! I lost them in that fire fight and I thought—”
“You thought their deaths were your fault, didn’t you?” Lan’ara said gently. “That’s one piece of guilt you can put away for good—they’re well and safe and mated to Kindred females, like myself.”
Nate had heard of the Kindred—supposedly they were an alien race, like the Scourge. But instead of being evil despoilers, they were a race of beautiful women who had come to try and save the Earth from the invaders.
He had always thought the Kindred were nothing but a legend—a hopeful story started by people who would have no hope otherwise. A sweet lie to help the few children that were left on the despoiled Earth sleep at night.
But now, here was Lan’ara, telling him that the Kindred were real—and that his two old buddies were married—or “mated,” to use her term—to two of them! And that she was one herself.
“You’re really not fucking with me?” he demanded, looking up at her. “Ollie and Simon are alive?”
“They sent you their best wishes because they knew I was coming to find you,” Lan’ara told him. “Oh, and Oliver said to tell you something. He said…” She frowned, a slight wrinkle forming between her sharply arched eyebrows. “He said, ‘Tell Nate I still miss his coffee can casserole.’ Does that make any sense to you?”
Nate felt a shock run through him. Coffee can casserole was a name they’d given to a meal he’d made many nights when their unit was under cover, hiding from the Scourge. It was just chopping up whatever meat or veg you could find and mixing it up in a big, empty metal coffee can, like the kind by Folgers or Maxwell House, and cooking it over a fire. A can of condensed soup or a packet of gravy mix provided the sauce and it came out different every time.