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)
Uh oh. That’s the second mention of what sounds like a woman’s name, and I’m here cuddling in his lap. “Is that your mate?” He said I was his mate, but how do I know he doesn’t say that to everyone? “Do I need to worry that she’s going to be jealous of me sitting with you?”
R’jaal pauses for a moment and then looks down at me. His throat works, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Finally he says, “I have no mate yet.”
That yet feels very pregnant. But at least I don’t have to fear a jealous girlfriend. “Okay then.”
“How is it that you ended up here, R’slind? Did you come from the fruit cave somehow?”
“I don’t know what a fruit cave is. And I’m not entirely sure how I got here, either. I woke up and I was in a strange dark box and these tubes were in my arms. I pulled the lid off and escaped the box, but I was naked and in the snow. I ran for shelter and found a cave, and in the cave, someone snatched me. I woke up and found myself here.”
“And you say there was a four-armed male that brought you here? And me?”
I nod. I’m cold in all the places that R’jaal isn’t touching me, and so I squirm a little to try and get all of my chilled bits warmed. His breath hitches and I’m reminded of his big honking erection. Shit.
“Will you describe the male to me?” R’jaal’s voice is slightly strangled, and I’m sure it’s because of my wriggling. “You said he had four arms. Did he have both legs? A long braid?”
What strange things to ask. “There’s two guys. One has a mean face. He doesn’t say anything, just watches from the shadows. The other one tries to talk to me. They’ve got two legs, four arms, no braids.” I pause, thinking.. “He had a lion’s mane, really.”
“Lion?”
Oh, right. He’s an alien. He’s not going to know what a lion is. “Big, puffy mane around his face. All kinda dark gray. And he didn’t speak the same language as you and me.”
That makes R’jaal pause. “He did not?”
“No. I could understand him but he couldn’t understand me.” I leave out the part where he said I was cursed, because if R’jaal thinks I’m cursed, too, I’m not going to get any more warmth. “Do you know him?”
“I…do not think I do. I thought I knew all the people on this world but it seems I am mistaken.” R’jaal frowns absently, still stroking my arm. “Did he have horns? What were they like?”
“Like yours.”
“And four arms? You are certain?”
“That’s not the kind of thing you mistake.”
He chuckles. “I suppose not. Did he have a mane on his face? Like me?”
I tilt my head back, regarding him, and this close up, he’s…really pretty. His lips are full and soft, with a perfect cupid’s bow upper lip. He’s got just enough scruff on his chin to make him look rugged, but not so much that it looks like it’d tear my face up if we kissed. Not that I plan on kissing him. I think the cuddling is getting to me. “I don’t think he had facial hair like you, no. Like I said, it was a lot like a lion’s mane.” I set the spearhead on my legs and gesture with my hands on the sides of my face. “Poofy.”
“Poo-fee. I see.” He thinks for a moment longer. “And his tail?”
I try to remember. “Not like yours.” R’jaal’s is more devil-like, with a sinuous look to it and a tuft at the end. “He was fluffy.”
R’jaal grunts at that. “Impossible.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it was fluffy. Is that bad?” I pick up the spearhead again, worried. It doesn’t feel like enough of a weapon. Not in the slightest.
He shakes his head, his expression vague as he holds me close. “It is not bad. It is just…what you have described is not possible.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the Ancestors are all long dead.”
Ancestors? As in, his ancestors? Is that what he’s talking about? I want to point out that we’re talking in circles around each other, but his shoulders jerk back and his head lifts, and suddenly I’m no longer staring at his pretty mouth. He’s got his gaze locked on the bars of the cell, and I suspect our captor is returning.
R’jaal is about to see for himself just who is holding us captive.
Seven
R’JAAL
What R’slind describes is impossible. A male with four arms and thick body fur, with horns like me and a long, fluffy tail? It must be an outcast of some kind, I reason.
If an islander was born with four arms, he would go to Strong Arm clan.
If born with horns like me, to Tall Horn clan.
If he had a tail with its own thick mane, Long Tail clan.