I pause. Water clings to her cheeks and eyelashes, and the urge to kiss it away grips me. There’s something about this female, something beyond how I’ve felt about any of the other females I’ve lain with over the years. There is a softness to her under her feistiness, and it calls to me.
“It was before the Roth invasion,” she says quietly. “After that, everything changed. I entered the Federation military. I had to get really hard, really fast. We all did. I think… I pushed myself harder than I had to. Everyone looked at me and thought I was just some delicate, pretty girl, and I hated it. I hated that it made me feel weak.” Gen studies one of the stone snake coils jutting from the temple wall. “Once the Roth came, it was like I didn’t want to be me anymore. I didn’t want to be cute Genevieve. It felt like I couldn’t be her anymore. And now I’m here. And I feel like I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be now.”
She falls silent, her lips pressed thin.
I hate that she can’t understand me. I hate that she’s feeling this way, but I like that she’s talking. I love how she is talking to me. Sharing parts of herself she keeps in shadow under that brittle exterior.
Of course, she likely only feels comfortable talking to me so honestly because she needs someone to listen—and knows she will not understand anything I tell her in response.
I swallow.
“I understand,” I say, gazing deep into her unusual blue eyes. “For so long, I have been raised to rule Sueva. Raised to lead my people, my people who are slowly dying out, thanks to the virus. The pressure—” I pause, scrubbing at where some of the scum sticks to my scales. “The pressure to be the prince my people needed was too much. I have made bad choices. I acted spoiled. I slept my way through the other species on my trips to the settlements. I tried to prove myself against the Roth, and maybe I did, but… but now? Now, the separatists threaten everything.” I take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as I voice what troubles me most. “And I fear it is because of me. Because I have been a weak leader. Because I cannot fill my father’s shoes.”
I lapse into momentary silence, my father’s words echoing through my head. You do not take Sueva seriously. You do not take yourself seriously. You will not be king until you can prove you have outgrown your childish needs and selfish behaviors. I have not spoken to my father in months, preferring instead to divert myself with the novel thought of taking a human wife, of preparing a home for her in Perzovir, our capital, and the idea of helping our species survive.
And here she is, before me, a vision in the water of the many-faced-goddess’ temple, her head cocked to the side, listening, though she cannot understand the words.
She’s more than I ever bargained for, and suddenly, I know I am not enough.
How could I be, when we’re stuck in the jungle because of my ineptitude? By my lack of knowledge of Suevan geography, by the fact I was spoiled and cosseted and allowed leniency where our Warlords were not?
My chest heaves, and I stare at the patch of sky visible overhead, the Crigomars still roaring occasionally in the distance.
“I do not want you to look at me like that. Like he does. Like I am a weak leader. A failure. For the first time, I want to truly prove to myself who I am.” For you, I think, but the word sticks in my craw despite our translation issues. I cannot allow the separatists to continue their nonsensical missions against us. Not when the price of their success could be Gen.
My tail lashes angrily under the water, sending a wave slapping against the temple stones. As good as it feels to unload my burden, the deepest secret of my heart, to this woman, it’s painful, as though the words have been torn from me.
And she doesn’t even understand them. I am not sure if I am grateful for that fact... or frustrated. I do not want my Gen to know what a failure I am. How Sueva is split because of my inability to unite our dying people.
I would hate to see the derision return to face.
I have only just won her smiles.
CHAPTER FIVE
GEN
It feels so fucking good to get clean. The green mucous-like crap that I picked up in the swamp sloughs off in disgusting sheets. It reminds me a little of a cheap face mask I bought once, except it smells anything but spa-like.
It feels equally as good to trauma dump on poor, hot, unsuspecting Kanuz. I know he can understand me, so I should feel vulnerable about throwing some of my deepest feelings at him, but I don’t.
He didn’t run away at my stream of consciousness either, like any of the dudes I dated on Earth might have.
No, instead, he said something back, in that strangely soothing alien language of his. Kanuz’s diamond-shaped pupils expanded like he listened intently while I talked, and then he said something back, his face wrinkling in what looked like frustration. Now he stands in the water next to me, his giant frame easily touching the bottom, while I float and scrub at the nastiness stuck all over me.
This ruin has a weird vibe. It’s not something I would ever say to any of the crew, because God knows they’d laugh at me saying something had a vibe, but it’s true. The green swamp, the giant snake, the running water paired with the overgrown and crumbling interior… It’s bizarre as hell and completely alien.
Unsettling. A shiver trickles down my spine.
That’s the word for it. It is deeply unsettling, this place.
Kanuz seems unaffected by it, though. In fact, while I scrub at my skin and hum under my breath to break up the sound of the frustrated dinosaurs still bugling randomly outside and soak in the bizarre, otherworldly atmosphere, Kanuz just watches me with those strange, compelling eyes.
“Do your people mind the wet at all?” I’ve barely asked about him this whole time, preferring to stew over how sideways everything went and my fear for the rest of the crew.
He shakes his head, muttering something and pointing to the sky.
“Rains a little much here for that, huh?”
He nods, grinning at me with those too-sharp teeth. His smile sends a ripple of renewed interest through me.
That’s unsettling, too.
I sigh, closing my eyes and floating, relaxed for the first time since we landed on this planet. I’m hungry, I’m tired, but I’m safe for the minute and I’m relatively clean.
And I am not going to psychoanalyze my growing attraction to the big, scaly alien. Nope. Not gonna do it.
I’m going to ignore it until the last possible minute.
“So, do you think I’ll ever get back to Earth?” It’s the first time I’ve put words to that particular worry.
Kanuz says nothing. Instead, a snarl rips out of him, and the next minute, water sloshes up the sides of my face as he storms from the pool.
Surprised, I flip right-side up, treading the lukewarm water and staring after Kanuz, whose tail thrashes behind him as he paces beside the pool, muttering to himself and stealing glances at me.
“What crawled up your butt?” I ask, annoyed at his quick change in behavior. “I thought we were finally getting along.”
He raises a fist, pointing up at the… ceiling? The sky?
Unclear.
“I’m fucking sick of charades,” I say, swimming for the edge of the pool. “You’re mad at the rain?”