Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
It’s shamefully embarrassing. I sit up, and I’m covered in sand, still wearing last night’s clothing. I really must have been sloshed. I put a hand to my forehead and wipe away more sand, and then grimace as more memories flood back.
Who did I puke on? It might have been Kyth. Then, I think I cried and belly-crawled to the tent. I look around, and I’m relieved that I’m not curled up with strangers but instead nestled against several of the other “clone” women I was rescued with. At least they’re familiar. I wipe at my mouth, the sour taste of fruit lingering at the back of my throat, and get to my feet. A rain of sand follows my movements, and I grimace.
I emerge from the tent to the sight of a lot of strangers. Everyone’s gathered around the fire again—well, not everyone, but quite a few people are—and someone’s handing out steaming bowls of warm breakfast. Everyone’s looking at me with a mixture of amusement and pity and I really want to just crawl away and hide and never come out again. Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying.
“Want breakfast?” a woman says, holding a bowl out to me.
Even though I’m hungry, I shake my head and shyly retreat a few steps. Taking the food means talking, and I just want to hide with my shame.
I kissed Skarr last night. Like really, really kissed. Like porn-levels kissed.
And it was fun.
And I groped him.
And he might have two dicks, but that might also be the alcohol talking.
“Oh no you don’t,” the woman says, smiling. She marches over to my side and puts an arm around my shoulders. “I know you’re shy, but you need food. And we don’t bite! Come sit for a bit and I promise we’ll leave you alone. You’re safe with us.”
She steers me back toward the fire, and I want to protest, but my stomach rumbles again, loud enough to be overheard. So much for that. I slump and let her guide me toward the group, though I feel wildly uncomfortable.
“My name is Callie,” she says, her voice cheerful. “My mate is M’tok. If you see the one with the big tall horns that looks like he’s about to start some shit? That’s him.” She says it with a touch of pride in her voice. “And my baby boy is M’cal but M’tok is watching him so I can take my turn making breakfast. You want some? I made it sweet, because I like it sweet.”
I thump into the seat she more or less drags me toward and give the others nearby an awkward smile. Callie—who has dark hair and a beautifully embroidered leather tunic covered with flowers—serves up a bowl, slaps a carved spoon into it, and then hands it to me. She gazes at me expectantly.
Right. I take a small mouthful. The texture is a little odd, a bit like a paste with a few larger chunks of what feel like seeds, but it’s sweet and reminds me of oatmeal, or maybe even grits. I nod, managing a smile. “’S good.”
“I know, right? Sweeter is better.” She gives an older black woman near the fire a smug look. “I tell them if they don’t like the way I make it, ellos no tienen que comerlo.”
“That isn’t the point of making the community breakfast,” the older woman says with a friendly roll of her eyes.
“It is when I make it.” Callie pulls out a bone cup and dips it into a second bag, then pauses. “You might not be ready for tea. You want water instead?”
I blink. Why wouldn’t I be ready for tea?
The older woman sees my expression and smiles. “The best caffeine kick here is from shrimp shells. We steep them and pick the shells out. We call it shrimp tea, but it takes some people some getting used to.”
My hungover stomach rebels at the thought of picking dead shrimp out of my drink. My nostrils flare, and the mouthful of paste in my mouth suddenly feels like glue.
“Uh oh, back up,” Callie says. “She’s gonna blow. No tea for you.”
“Breathe in slowly through your nose,” the older woman says, coaching me. “Deep breaths, and look up at the sky. You’re not gonna puke. I’m Gail, by the way.”
I take several deep breaths even as my mouth fills with saliva, but I manage not to vomit. When I can breathe easily again, I give Gail and Callie an awkward smile. “I’m Vivi…but I don’t really remember my real name.”
Gail just nods. “Well, we’ll call you Vivi unless you wanna change it. You can go by whatever you like. Just know that you’re among friends.”
There’s a warmth to Gail’s presence that relaxes me, and I manage to take another bite of food as I watch the women. Callie seems nice, too, though she could be my age and it seems strange to think of her as a mother. Then again, the khui wants me to make babies with Skarr, so I suppose it’s not that strange.