Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Real. Okay. It’s all real. I’m a real person. If she says so, it must be true. Some of the blackness threatening the edges of my vision disappears.
“Now let me greet you properly,” the blonde says, giving me a gentle shake of the shoulders. “I’m Liz, and this planet is Not-Hoth. This beach is Icehome. Welcome to the shit show.”
Twenty-Six
R’JAAL
I refuse to leave the beach—and the rock seat I have ensconced my mate upon—until the healer checks her over. All is chaos—there are new faces around the fire, new males, new females, the ancestors—and everyone seems determined to talk over one another. Bowls of food are passed around, and I see Set’nef staring blankly at a strange woman who is chatting to him. Tal’nef is seated with N’dek and D’vi, trying to communicate through gestures, and Noj’me is devouring H’rlow with her eyes, taking in every word.
T’ia and Rem’eb are nowhere to be seen. They have probably left for privacy, and I do not blame them. The pull of resonance is strong, stronger than ever now that we are home and my hut is mere paces away.
But R’slind clings to my hand miserably, and her panic gnaws at me. More than anything, I want to make this better for her. If that means letting the healer work upon her while everyone prattles in my ears, I will do so. The tribe seems to be taking good care of the newcomers. Both I’rec and F’lor have taken charge, ensuring that everyone is fed and healthy, and answering questions. They pause every now and then to embrace, and I’rec looks at F’lor with such devotion that I am truly happy for my friend. For the longest time, I thought it would be F’lor I would resonate to, yet I felt nothing but friendship for her. I could not understand why I could not approach her as a pleasure-mate.
Now I know. She was simply not right for me. She never was.
V’ronca turns to R’slind and sits down next to her, frazzled. “Sorry about the delay. Everyone seems to need something today.” She pushes her dark mane out of her face and blows a tired breath. “You’ve eaten? Drank something?”
R’slind nods, still holding tight to my hand. “Am I really a clone?”
“Can’t tell,” the healer says. “My healing ability doesn’t work that way. But does it matter?”
“It matters to me,” R’slind says miserably. She sounds so sad that it makes me ache. More than anything, I wish I could take this sadness from her.
“As long as you’re healthy, that’s all that matters,” V’ronca says, holding out her hands. “May I touch you so I can read your khui?”
R’slind gives me an uncertain look. I nod, and she puts her hands in those of the healer’s. I cannot help but touch her, though, and I twine my tail around her waist even as I run my fingers through R’slind’s mane, because I know she likes my touch.
“No resonance fulfillment yet, right?” V’ronca asks, her eyes still closed.
“Not yet.”
“That’s fine. But just so you know, the khui pushes hard for resonance to be fulfilled, and the longer you fight it, the worse you’ll feel.”
“Okay,” is all R’slind says, glancing up at me.
“I wished for us to be here, in safety,” I tell V’ronca. “To be home.”
“I’m not judging,” V’ronca says. She lifts her chin, concentrating, her expression strange with her eyes tightly closed. “The khui can be a real jerk when it doesn’t get what it wants. You gotta figure your thing out first, of course. I’m just letting you know that it might be why she felt faint.”
A male comes up to V’ronca’s side. He is one of the newcomers, and is hugely solid, with the thickest neck I have ever seen. His skin is an odd gray-blue and he waits patiently for a moment, and then speaks. “Veronica.”
“Busy right now, Kyth,” she says, not looking in his direction.
“My khui died again.” The one called Kyth says, remaining where he is. “Sabrina says my eyes are dull now.”
“Go tell I’rec or Ashtar,” V’ronca says. “I can’t help you right now.” When the male turns and heads for the edge of the group, where I’rec stands, she cracks one eye open and mutters, “Worse than children, I tell you.”
“Is she healing?” Noj’me asks loudly, leaning over and staring at V’ronca with open-mouthed wonder. “We no longer have healers! Not since people go underground! Amazing!” She is talking very loud, and I wince at her near-shouting. I notice that the ancestor males pass a skin of sah-sah between them, and I wonder what fool decided to get them drunk.
Probably A’tam, if I had to pick a fool.
“Noj’me, Noj’me,” Tal’nef taps her with one hand, a bleary look on his face. “Ask them why they are not keeping their females behind a wall.”