Maybe it’s the scales. He’s covered in green scales all over…at least I assume they’re scales. Everywhere I can see a bit of exposed skin, he’s a pale jade, with a striated scale pattern not unlike a snake. He’s wearing super heavy layers of furs, but his tail is exposed to the cold, and it reminds me of nothing so much as an alligator’s tail. It’s thick and heavy and tapers to a point that brushes against the snow. Even now, it twitches, as if he wants to lash it back and forth in agitation.
Maybe it’s his face. He’s handsome enough, I suppose. His bone structure is prominent, his features regular. His jaw is square, his nose prominent and scaled heavily like his brow, his eyes deeply set. As if to offset all this hardness and the harsh angularity of his face, his hair is downy, almost baby-soft in its fineness. It hangs close to his jaw like some sort of fairy tale prince, all rippling, shining tousled waves. That’s not the problem, though. It’s his gaze. His eyes are blue like everyone else, but his pupils—a slightly darker shade of blue than the rest of his eye—are vertical. They’re a slit of darkness amongst the sea of blue and give off a menacing vibe. I don’t like it.
I don’t like him, either.
All of this adds up to a “no thank you” from me.
“Well?” he says, and he smiles again, as if he expects me to suddenly shower him with compliments.
“Well what?”
“You like what you see, yes?”
“No.”
His expression falls. “Bah. You do. You are just uneasy because I am the only ssethri splice upon this planet full of mesakkah.”
“Mesakkah?”
“The blue ones. Did you not hear Flor say that there are many of them here?” He shakes his head. “They are terrible gladiators. Some armor, but not much in the brains department. I can easily take them.” He pauses and then adds, “At least, the splice I come from can easily take them.”
Skarr looks momentarily troubled and I feel a flash of kinship, that we’re both struggling with this cloning thing. That we both don’t know who we are. “They seem nice.”
“Nice does not win battles.”
“No one said there are battles here.”
The look he gives me is condescending and pitying. “Of course they say that. Mark me now, though, there is always a fight to be won.”
I roll my eyes.
Skarr rubs his chest again, and his song grows stronger. He smiles at me, the expression crawling over his face slowly, as if it’s taking him a little time to realize that looking at me makes him happy.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“I am looking at you, just as you looked at me.” He continues to rub his chest in a way that makes me feel awkward, especially with heat pulsing between my thighs. “Is that not allowed?”
Giving a little shrug, I remain still so he can look all he wants, because he allowed me to gawk at him, right? As long as it’s just looking, it can’t hurt. A small part of me is curious what he thinks, too.
Skarr circles around me, rubbing his chest as if rewarding his khui. “Mmm.”
“What’s that mean? That ‘mmm’?”
“Just that I approve.” He reappears in front of me, the smirk on his face again. “Your appearance is a little quiet, but I imagine it is because you are stealthy and clever, yes? So I approve. My khui would only pick the best to mate with me. You do not mate a zelft to a thrombox, after all.”
I blink at him, utterly repulsed. If he asked to check my teeth next, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m not a person to him. I’m some sort of sexual accessory to make him look good to others. He doesn’t care about me, just appeasing his own ego.
It’s rather gross.
I turn and start walking away again.
“Wait, where are you going?” Skarr chases after me, his heavy leather cloak flapping. “Female, I said wait!”
“I just told you my name!”
I wait for him to say it. To be a normal person and apologize. Vivi, I’m sorry. It’s short. Simple. Easy.
Instead, he jogs next to me. “Remind me of it again?”
Ugh. This is the worst. The worst of the worst. I keep storming away, speeding my steps up. I don’t know where I’m going. Just…away.
He grabs me. Snags me by the arm and tries to stop me.
And I lose it. I halt abruptly, plant both hands on his chest, and shove. I might even let out a feral little scream of rage.
Skarr tumbles onto his back in the snow. Instead of looking furious, though, his eyes light up with enthusiasm, as if the thought of me fighting him excites him. “That is more like it, my mate.”
“Ugh! You are revolting!” I fling my hands into the air in disgust and stomp away again. “And I am not your mate!”
“And here you said there were no battles to be won,” he calls out after me.
Chapter Eight
VIVI
Since I don’t have anywhere else to go, I stomp my way back to camp.
I’m tempted to leave, though. To just keep on heading out and see how far I make it. I know the answer to that already, though: not far. I don’t know enough about this planet (or even myself) to make that a viable option. So I head back to the encampment where the other clones are waiting by the fire. What other choice do I have?
Skarr is standing with a cluster of the men—the other splices—and they all give me fascinated looks when I return. Except for Skarr. There’s a hint of annoyance on his face, as if he’s downright inconvenienced by the fact that I won’t jump his bones.
I resist the urge to snarl at him, but only because he’d probably like it.
Pretending nonchalance, I warm my hands by the fire. I can’t help but notice that all conversation died when I approached. No one’s talking, and it makes me feel more shy and vulnerable than ever. Like I’m a problem. Like I’m contagious with something all because my khui decided that the worst guy on the planet is my forever man.
It’s not as if I chose him. It’s not as if resonance is catching. I can’t even be mad at them for avoiding me, though. If there’s even slightly a chance that my resonance would affect theirs, I’d avoid me, too. No one wants to be stuck with one of these guys. I flex my fingers, waiting for someone to say something to me. Anything. I glance over and Colleen averts her gaze. Natalie chews her nails anxiously and watches me, saying nothing. Dawn and April whisper when they think I’m not looking. It’s not malicious. We just don’t know the rules of this new place and I’ve been tapped by the unluckiest hand there is.
Sabrina—the sweetest and most outgoing—fusses over Kyth, tucking a blanket around him and I notice his eyes are dull again, the light of his khui gone. Flor would talk to me, I think. Reassure me that all is well. But she’s not around. Maybe she’s catching a few moments with her mate, the guy she eats up with her eyes when she thinks no one’s watching.
If I were a braver soul, I’d sit in one of the vacant spots near the fire and start a conversation. Tell everyone how awkward I’m feeling. Heck, if I were braver, I’d approach the cluster of men near Skarr and give them my version of what it’s like to resonate. I suspect Skarr’s version is more enthusiastic than mine. I should probably be flattered instead of wanting to run away screaming.