“What’s the problem?” Dad strolled in from the kitchen, his hair wildly tousled from Mom’s fingers. He gave Tori’s shoulder a playful squeeze, then scowled at Eric and offered a curt nod of acknowledgment. “Bet you’ve got some homework to do.”
Eric took the hint. “Yeah.” He leaned in to kiss Cara’s cheek, but instead delivered a whispered warning in her ear. “You better figure out what’s important.” And then he turned and left without saying good-bye, pulling the door shut so softly it barely made a sound. Somehow it stung her ears worse than a slam.
Eric’s HALO pamphlet had fallen to the floor, and Cara picked it up, glancing at the last lines. It is better to die proud Patriots of Earth than to live in quivering supplication to an alien race. Take care that you recognize the L’eihr enemy. He may look human, but he is not.
She shook off a chill. It terrified her to think Eric actually believed this drivel and that Tori wasn’t far behind. What if he was right about the whole student body despising her for bringing Aelyx to school?
Cara pulled a deep breath in through her nose and held it.
No, she couldn’t believe that. Reasonable people would have doubts, just like she did, but they wouldn’t come after her with pitchforks and torches. And Tori was crazy to think the L’eihrs wanted to lure her to their planet and trap her there to make babies. If that was their goal, why not abduct her now? They had the technology to do it—easily.
So why did her palms feel clammy again? Why was her heart trying to escape her body by way of her throat?
Cara released a loud puff of air and tried to ignore the prickles of dread that tickled her skull—the same ones she felt mid-debate when she realized she’d picked a losing argument.
Chapter Three
Narrowing his eyes, Aelyx peered at the lofty banquet hall ceiling, where thousands of faceted chandelier crystals refracted the light and illuminated the hall in prisms of color. How completely garish. Just as the spaceport vendor had claimed, humans were fixated on shiny objects to an extent that bordered on delirium. And that was just the beginning.
The smoky scent of meat permeating the air was rank and unfamiliar. Between the click of shoes against polished marble floors, echoes of conversations and laughter, and clinking champagne glasses, the noise overwhelmed him. It seemed humans had made overstimulation a way of life.
He leaned against the wall—an extravagant tile mosaic depicting soldiers mounted on horseback—and observed his host family from a distance. They hadn’t been formally introduced yet, and he already dreaded sharing a home with these people. Bill Sweeney, the father, laughed loudly with his wife and pinched her rear end when he thought no one was looking. Troy Sweeney, the family’s oldest child, seemed intent on eating his weight in an appetizer called shrimp cocktail. It certainly didn’t look appetizing.
He recognized Cara Sweeney easily from her photograph. Tonight, however, she wasn’t smiling. She stood rigidly with her arms crossed over her chest while casting hostile glances at her brother. Considering what he’d learned about her hobbies—solitary activities such as reading classic novels, video gaming, and journalistic writing—her closed-off body language came as no surprise. This female seemed to prefer isolation to the company of others, possibly a defense mechanism resulting from her mother’s near death. All the better. That meant she might not follow his activities too closely.
Was this girl truly the best the humans had to offer? He supposed Cara was an attractive female, a bit tall perhaps, but her blazing copper hair and blue eyes assaulted his senses. Vibrant colors didn’t exist naturally on L’eihr, and she reminded him of how alien this new world was. When his retinas couldn’t tolerate any more abuse, he glanced away and found Syrine in the crowd.
Syrine wore the same tan and gray uniform that he did, but she appeared far less relaxed in it as she conversed with her host student, a lanky Frenchman with deep black hair. While Syrine’s shoulders tensed so visibly they crept to her ears, the boy propped one hand against the wall and leaned toward her in an obvious mating ritual.
Sacred Mother, how disgusting. The imbecile either failed to notice or simply didn’t care that Syrine had no interest in pairing with him. No L’eihr of their generation would sink to sharing genetic material with a human, not even if The Way demanded it.
As if called, Syrine glanced toward him. She ducked beneath the human’s arm and scurried to where Aelyx stood, concealed in an alcove.
Locking eyes with him, she complained, Great gods, I can almost see the hormones rolling off his filthy body. I nearly vomited my supper.
Establish boundaries now, Aelyx advised, before it goes too far.
Have you seen him? She glanced over her shoulder at the boy, who’d already moved on in an attempt to entice a new female. Tipping back his head, the Frenchman honked a laugh through his hooked nose. He doesn’t understand nonverbal social cues.
If all else fails, an “accidental” knee to the groin should deliver the message.
At least your human seems tolerable. Quiet and reserved.
Aelyx studied Cara Sweeney, feeling his brows pinch together. A pained expression distorted the girl’s ivory features, and she pressed one hand against her stomach as if she might become physically ill. Tolerable? He doubted it.
And Eron, Syrine continued. His female observes personal boundaries. Such luck!
They peered across the room at Eron’s host, who stared at the floor, both hands clasped behind her back as if meditating. Her parents spoke above her head while a young boy pushed a die-cast vehicle across the marble tile at her feet. The child bore a slight resemblance to the girl, but considering China’s population restrictions, he probably wasn’t a sibling. Too bad Earth’s other nations hadn’t implemented similar policies. With their limited resources, humans were mating themselves into extinction.
Don’t worry, Aelyx told Syrine. If the sh’alear works, we won’t be here long.
It’ll take one month at least, Syrine complained. And if we’re caught . . .
If we’re caught, we die, he warned. Failure’s not an option. He could feel Syrine’s unease seeping to the surface, eroding her courage. Perhaps they’d better go over the plan again—all three of them. Go tell Eron to keep his com-sphere close. I’ll contact you both in three days.
Don’t lose faith in me. I can do this. Syrine placed her fingertips against the left side of Aelyx’s throat in a farewell gesture of esteem. For the Sacred Mother.
And her children. Aelyx returned the gesture and pulled his hand away, then backed into the shadows of the alcove.
Once, when Cara was ten years old, she and Troy had gone exploring in the woods behind their house. He’d held a tree branch out of the way for her, and then—thinking it would be hilarious—he’d let it go too soon so it smacked her right across the belly. She’d had to breathe in tiny gasps for the next hour. Kind of the way she was breathing right now.
Like the leather pumps contorting her toes, her black cocktail dress was a size too small, and Mom had bought inexpensive Spanx to avoid paying for a new outfit. Unfortunately, the spandex was three sizes too small, and she hadn’t been able to sit down (or inhale) all night.
“Are you gonna stop giving me the stink-eye and talk to me yet?” Troy had finally torn himself away from the buffet station, and he had shrimp between his teeth. Some things never changed. “I won’t see you for another year.”