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1.
Kate's cheeks felt as hot as if she'd been sunburned, and she looked resolutely ahead like a horse with blinders. Her jaw was tight, both to conceal her anxiety and to avoid looking at any other yautja in the training hall. She didn't need to see them to imagine how they'd stare at her with interest, amusement, condescension.
She increased her pace to match Solar's strides, walking side by side rather than trailing behind like a little pet.
But her fears were unfounded, as they entered the kehrite to find it empty aside from two exiting youngbloods who were too busy jostling and laughing at some joke to give them a second glance. It was quite late in the day cycle, she considered. Whether Solar had timed it so on purpose to spare her the gawking, she didn't know, but she wasn't complaining.
“Are you going easy on me?” she said breathlessly fifteen minutes later, bouncing back out of his reach on the balls of her feet. She was no slouch in the athletic department, and she'd proven she could hold her own – she wouldn't be here otherwise – but she knew if he tried he could have thrashed her thrice over by now.
“Do you want to be annihilated, or do you want to learn something?” came his rejoinder. It was obvious he was catering to her skill level. The oxygen content in the ship's recycled air was higher than on Earth, and while it eased her exercise, she was still already sweat-slick. It didn't help that the ambient temperature onboard had to be in the 80s. He, though, was barely out of breath.
She ducked her head in acknowledgment, and dropped back down to copy his crouched fighting stance.
Her extraterrestrial friend was fierce, skilled, and intimidating, but he wasn't invincible. He'd equipped her with no weapon and discarded his own, bio-mask included. His eyes, those of a pure and undomesticated hunter, dissected her for a weak spot.
He came at her and she feinted, ducking under his swinging arm. Forgoing planning a few moves ahead like she'd been previously instructed she flung herself on his back like a spider monkey, hooking her arms around his neck and gouging at his face. He shook himself and her body shifted around to his front as they tumbled hard onto the mat, her legs still locked around him. He caught himself on one forearm, bracing before his full weight could crush her, tresses whipping forward with the momentum of the fall and smacking the mat.
He swiftly rolled over, and once she was atop him he shoved both hands up under her arms to break her grip, then rolled again to pin her. He grunted as she kicked his calves with her heels but remained stalwart, holding her down by the upper arms and keeping his head tucked aside and mandibles neatly closed to avoid her flailing.
Kate bucked up off the mat, struggling, but it was no use. As she wriggled under him she was conscious of his weight between her thighs, the buckle on the front of his loincloth pressing into the apex of her legs. All at once she gave up, as if the distraction of such close proximity drained the last of her energy. She exhaled, letting her head fall back, staring up at the arched dome of the ceiling.
“Where is your fight?” Solar rumbled, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation of his voice against her body. “You surprise me. Has this ooman surrendered so soon?”
His language was still a bit of a puzzle to her, so it took her a moment to process, distracted as she still was by his frame flush against hers.
“Not much I can do against an opponent more than twice my weight!” she retorted once she figured out what he'd said, beating his bicep once with a half-hearted fist, as if to demonstrate the futility of it.
“And thus your method,” he reasoned, “Must be to evade contact in the first place until you can detect a weakness.”
Her ponytail had loosened in the tussle and she blew upwards to get the strands out of her eyes. He smoothed them straight back and off her forehead with his palm. Then he paused, as if only just recognizing he'd performed the spontaneous motion.
“And if there isn't one?” she panted.
She was very aware of the rise and fall of her chest beneath his own solid torso, bare as he was save for his belt and loincloth and leather greaves. They'd touched, of course, but never to this extent. She could feel his body heat through the fabric of her t-shirt.
He tilted his head, top mandibles rising slightly before withdrawing back onto his knees to let her up. “There always is.”
2.
The freezing desert planetoid was minuscule, and so the storm that unexpectedly rose up and enveloped it was inescapable. Though the white sand was as fine as powdered sugar it stung like ice chips as it whipped at Kate's exposed skin.
“This is hopeless!” she called to be heard over the screaming wind.
Solar was probably heading towards the towering chalky cliffs anyway, rather than because he heard her and agreed, but she hardly cared as she trudged after him through the unstable sand, the top crust crunching underfoot.
It was a simple scouting trip to an uninhabited hunk of rock, apparently of minimal importance and meant to be undertaken solo, but Solar proposed she come with him. More like announced unequivocally, really. Maybe he wanted to teach her something; better odds were that he just pitied her, a purposeless nomad that stuck out like a sore thumb. A responsibility for him to supervise.
The cliff-face was pitted with caves, most no more than shallow indentations, but he must be scanning with his mask because as they scrambled up the sloping rock he veered off to the right. The cave he disappeared into was narrow and tight, all but invisible beneath a jutting overhang, and she hesitated to follow – but once inside she could see why he'd chosen it. A few body-lengths in and it bent in an L shape, the small space beyond protecting them from the arctic blasts and whirlwinds of sand.
They sat against opposite walls, Solar as motionless as a monk with his legs crossed and masked face upright, Kate with her knees drawn up and chin on her folded arms. Her head pounded from the noise of the howling gale outside. The storm was breaking up the signal from the shuttle, leaving it near-impossible to locate in this unknown terrain, and likewise interfering with the ability to communicate directly with the clanship. Waiting it out was the only viable option.
As the light began to fade, so the temperature plummeted even further. With equipment from his shoulder pack Solar lit a fire, springing up like magic from a concave metallic disc, but it was a meager thing, and she suspected more for her benefit than his due to his thermal netting.
Before descending to the planetoid she'd fashioned herself a long, crude poncho to protect her from the cold, and she huddled further into it now. She didn't bother asking if there were any food rations – she knew the answer would be no. She wouldn't starve from a single missed meal. Though she wouldn't say no to even one of their tasteless protein packs.
Through clouds of her own breath she stared into the fire, the feeble flames dancing as if to hypnotize her. It felt unreal – stranded on a hostile alien planet, with an alien, her stomach empty, and shivering so hard it hurt. She should have been paralyzed with fear – and yet she trusted her unlikely companion, and took unexpected reassurance in the large and highly competent presence she'd grown accustomed to.
“How long until sun-up?” she queried through chattering teeth. When Solar did not respond, she flicked her gaze up to him.
Instead of his usual self-assured carriage his shoulders were slumped, head bowed. The bands in his tresses caught the firelight's glow, the mask's cheekbones hollowed out with shadows.
“Solar?” She scooted closer, in case he hadn't heard over the storm outside. As she did their arms brushed in the cramped space, and she startled – in contrast to the usual heat he radiated, his skin was more chilled than hers.
“Is something wrong with your netting?”
“The sand. It is very...” He finished with a yautja word she didn't know. He held up clawed thumb and forefinger together in a pinch to indicate something tiny.
“Fine?” she supplied in English. “Powdery?”
“It has... worked itself into the mechanism... and partly disrupted its function,” he responded, as if taxed by forming a sentence. “But it remains adequate.”
“You'll be okay, right?” Though she was racked with shivers, she did not rely on external temperature to maintain her own quite the same vital way his species did. A thought popped into mind, inappropriate and unhelpful, whether he could hibernate like a frog.
His reply was slow to come, but when it did, it was with a chuff of amusement. “You are mistaken if you think I can be conquered by one cold night!”
Before Kate could overthink it she curled up on the cave floor, tugging on Solar's elbow to pull him down with her into the sand. He resisted, but his limbs were lethargic enough to give little protest. Still he clicked out his suspicion as he laid next to her, slinging a limp, heavy arm over her waist.
“I'm not sure I'd be welcomed back if you up and died on me,” she muttered, more to herself than him. Her awareness heightened at the spontaneous familiarity, but she wasn't exaggerating in an attempt at levity. She doubted anyone on the clanship had specific ambition to harm her, but she couldn't guess at what would happen if they found her with a distinguished hunter – her sponsor among them, for lack of a better word – stone dead.
“You forget that I owe you a debt of honor,” he rattled quietly. How could she? The circumstances were still fresh, forever scorched into her on every level. “It would be disgraceful of me to renege, even if the manner is via my death.”
“Then it's a win-win for us both.”
Her poncho was keeping all her warmth in so she squirmed out of it and draped it over them both, pressing closer as if she could will her modest body heat into him. His heart beat against her cheek – was it always so sluggish? She had no way of knowing.
In the dim light she visually traced the contours of his mask, to the edge where the line of his jaw was only just visible. His breaths were sporadic, and she couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. Yautja sleep cycles were longer than humans', and she wondered if that combined with the chill sent him into slumber.
She let her gaze drift. She was no stranger to physical contact with him, but not so prolonged, no more than barest necessity; not this stillness. Not in a way that let her study him unhurried and unobserved.
Solar was every inch exotic. The skin along his jawbone appeared pebbled, flattening into fainter striations of texture beneath the necklaces he wore: the beaded choker, the spiraling metal torc, a longer cord strung with miscellaneous trinkets resting over his broad pectorals.
Here the dappled brown of his shoulders gave way to deep sage. His skin was not damp, precisely, but held a near imperceptible sheen; supple and taut, as if well-oiled. Her own seemed almost papery in comparison. Did he think so, too? Was she, to him, the equivalent of what a naked mole rat was to her?
Kate clenched her fist. Yet the tactile memory of what it felt like to touch him, born only of imagination and fleeting recollections from weeks past (had it really been weeks now?) remained. She had no reason to gawk at him in his sleep: it was nosy and rude. Their proximity was only for survival, and she wouldn't let herself consider anything else. Those concepts – of implications, of intimacy – might not even apply to his species, and nonetheless had no place here.
She glanced back up at his masked face. Her heart stuttered as she noticed the downward incline of his head. He was awake; he'd been watching her.
“It's too loud for me to sleep,” she said lamely, as if the storm excused her unbidden examination.
“Soon it will pass.” Solar's pronouncement was drowsy. “Awaken me... when it does... and I will obtain the ship's signal.”
“What if I can't? Wake you up.”
He huffed. “If you are so concerned about me going into a torpor, then stay close to me.”
She was, and so she did.
3.
As the shuttle docked at the clanship and Solar exited with his team through the airlock, he hooked his mask on his belt, glad to once again breathe air formulated precisely to his lungs. The expedition had taken longer than scheduled, and been far more fraught with danger than anticipated. They'd retrieved an elusive and particularly cantankerous aquatic specimen for the science division – and though he'd emerged more or less unharmed, T'kicta nearly drowned and had developed a persistent hacking cough, in addition to having broken his wrist, and so was ordered directly to the med center.
The ooman was self-sufficient to a degree, but nonetheless he should check on her, Solar decided as he completed and entered the mission report into the system. Not only was she his responsibility, she was still new to the massive clanship. There were many aboard he knew only in passing, and he could not predict in advance each individual reaction to her.
While the clan's hub was practical in design and structure, it was utter luxury compared to the sparse, bare-bones functionality of the smaller mission crafts. It was on such a ship he had deployed to Earth, and that he and Kate had shared for several cycles on the return journey to the clanship. Available here was a variety of facilities and resources, including that which healed her injuries far in advance of what he could manage on the mission ship. Owing to her association with Solar she was no prisoner or slave, and so she was free to use the common areas as she liked.
He ate, and washed, and after asking around he tracked her via word of mouth to the community archives. He'd half-wondered if she'd spent his absence hidden in her assigned room but he was gratified to be proven wrong.
Kate sat at a work station between shelves, reading a hologram emanating from the viewing device before her. Her elbow was propped on the desk, chin in hand, features creased in concentration and illuminated by the holo's indigo light.
It was then that Solar's insides did something odd, as if flipping with the dual sensations of pleasure and nerves, a strange combination he was not sure he liked. It was comparable to the tense, restless excitement preceding his chiva, but only barely. There was some other, new element present he could not pin down.
Across the space, her eyes found his. Her demeanor did not change right away and he thought, disillusioned, that perhaps she failed to recognize him, that all yautja looked alike to her and she had forgotten his face. But then she started, going upright in her seat, and blinked several times in quick succession – did all oomans do that when emotionally prompted, or just her?
The chair legs scudded on the floor as she stood.
He was not yet fully adept at reading her expressions, and she had many nonsensical quirks he could not quite deduce. He'd assumed perhaps that it was the same for her, given her manner of looking at him sometimes. Now was another of those instances. It was as if she was unsure on how to react to his presence. Was she struggling to recall the typical form of yautja greeting? That must be it.
Solar strode forward and clapped his right hand on her shoulder, clicking in amiable acknowledgment. She jerked a little under the weight but returned the hello, stretching up to press her small hand on his shoulder. So she did remember.
“Your studies are commendable,” he remarked, releasing her and analyzing the hologram. It was a language program for the youngest juveniles, the glyphs blocky and oversized.
“Yeah,” Kate said vaguely. Her hand remained on him where she had put it. He took a step back, to indicate that she could stop the greeting, and she snatched her arm back as if she meant to do it just then anyway.
“You were gone much longer than I expected,” she began in a rush of sibilant English, then immediately affected a nonchalant air that came across as somehow feigned. Her scent was laced with... fear? Not quite. Had she been worried for him? Thought he had failed, been injured or killed? His first response was to bristle, affronted that she considered him so incompetent – but her countenance held no scorn. Her eyes were somehow bigger than usual.
It was a foreign notion, uncoiling in his head, to ponder someone actively wishing him life. Not in regards to successful completion of a task, but for its own sake. He too would prefer to remain alive, and he had comrades he felt similarly about and who likely shared that opinion about him – but a noble and courageous death would be an honor. This was nothing to fear. And yet Kate appeared to feel otherwise.
Without warning she invaded his space again and put her arms around his waist. He stiffened, caught off guard, hands drawing back in doubt – but though she had not done this before, he knew enough of her to realize it was not intended as an assault on his person. Among her kind the gesture must be reserved for special occasions. Her hair tickled his chest, and a pleased trill rose in his throat of its own accord.
Kate was happy. That much was clear. He found himself returning the intimacy, palms spreading over her back. She softened further into him, and he wondered when ooman embraces were designated to end. Not that it was unpleasant to him. Not at all.
She tipped her head up, and her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Once again she seemed unsure of what to say to him. This hesitancy was new to her, and Solar concluded it must be a consequence of her increasing fluency in his language, and thus her determination to be sure she spoke correctly before speaking at all. That was admirable.
He happened upon a place at the base of her spine where it curved in, as if made for his hand to rest there. It was only natural he do just that. He applied no pressure and yet as if he had her body canted very subtly into him, the tip of her tongue appearing on her bottom lip. He could feel each one of her fingers on his back.
And then she released him, pulling away into a more composed stance, her expression returning to one of neutrality.
“I meet you in your victory,” she said shyly in yautja. It was a formal salutation used after an extended absence, though she'd altered it to replace a word she must not be able to say with a similar one she could. Her pronunciation was halting but understandable, and if her accent was far from flawless... well, she could not help how her throat was built.
Solar chirruped his approval, and a self-deprecating grin spread across her face. He (and others) once thought this baring of teeth was a threat, and it had led to miscommunications more than once. But now he recognized that the wider the smile, the more positive her sentiment – and this satisfied him.
He had tasks to attend to. None especially pressing.
He took the stool opposite her.
“Show me what you have learned.”
4.
Queen Sa-Traica of the Belnassa clan had never encountered a human. A live and intact one, anyway.
“How did you come to be among our kind?” she demanded, from her seat several down from Kate. Slender chains were interwoven through her braided tress, strung with miniature hammered medallions that tinkled as she leaned forward to look down the packed banquet table. Though her stare was not unfriendly, it was unflinching, with both the color and foreboding of a tiger's.
Following this formal dinner there were to be negotiations between the queen and Solar's own clan leader, and Kate felt obligated to acquiesce when Sa-Traica had gotten wind of Kate's existence – unsurprising, as it was quite unprecedented – and requested her presence at dinner so she could amuse herself with the human. 'Amuse' was the closest translation for the word Solar used, and Kate had balked, knowing just what kind of entertainment many yautja clans would take with humans.
“That's it?” she'd said earlier, unconvinced, when Solar had laid out the situation. “This visiting queen just wants to pick my brain?”
“She does not want anything to do with your brain,” he swore, putting a fist to his chest. “And if she did, I would not allow it.”
Kate laughed. “No – it's just a saying. Pick my brain, meaning to talk and ask me a lot of questions.”
“Oh. Yes,” he'd affirmed with a solemn nod. “That.”
“I provided assistance when a hive of kainde amedha got out of hand – ” Would that figure of speech translate? “ – out of control in a remote area of my homeworld I happened to be in at the time,” Kate replied now. She and Solar usually spoke together in a blend of English and yautja, skipping between whichever words best suited their respective vocal anatomy and expressed their meaning, but now she used his language alone as well as she could. “I was hurt, and in return for my actions I was brought for healing.”
Her vague phrasing was deliberate, as was the downplaying of her role in the incident – that would probably be a strange notion to the yautja, who owned their accomplishments with great pride – in case it cast a bad light on Solar, to require help from a feeble human. The yautja had very specific ideas about that sort of thing. Regardless, her command of the language wasn't good enough for any further description. If the queen wanted more details, she'd have to get it from Solar.
“How do you find it here?” Sa-Traica queried, before Kate could take another bite of the meat on her plate. It was tender and well-seasoned, an explosion of flavor after the rut of bulk-cooked cafeteria meals. She'd been reluctant to be peered at and interrogated but so far it wasn't too bad, so long as the food kept coming.
“It is a privilege and honor to be here.” She'd expected that, and practiced a careful response. While her reception into Solar's clan, the Taitava, couldn't quite be described as warm, it had been generous by reserved yautja standards – if tolerance was generous. But it seemed Solar was an esteemed warrior and so this unconventional proclivity towards a human was granted him. “The traditions and successes of your people are great, and I have learned much.”
The queen snorted and spoke too fast to interpret, but Kate caught Solar's full name, and another word she knew: 'aseigan. Servant. Was Sa-Traica calling her his servant?
Kate knew Solar didn't view her that way – at least, she didn't believe so – yet it stung a little. But the Belnassans were in possession of a planet with an enviable tundra moon Solar's clan wanted very much to hunt on, and so Kate could endure some condescension for one evening. It was far from the first negative reaction she'd received.
A server presented them with a tray of tall goblets. On first sip the tawny liquor was both tart and fragrant, and Kate found himself taking a deeper mouthful, then another. Her empty goblet was soon replaced by a full one, and she focused on it and her food as small talk swirled around her – from what she could glean, the alcohol was a gift brought aboard by the Belnassans, along with baskets of yellow mango-sized fruits.
“The orine is a great delicacy,” Sa Traica informed them proudly, plucking one from a wooden bowl. Solar examined it, rolling it in his large palm and toying with the stem. Kate reached for another kebab instead. “There are only two orchards on the planet they originate from, and we grow several trees in our ship's green dome. The liquor tonight is made from it.”
Solar peeled the fruit over his plate, revealing the plump flesh within and popping it whole into his mouth. Kate was suddenly transfixed by the deftness of those long, clawed fingers, before shaking herself out of the odd reverie.
“You do credit to your clan with your recent deeds on Terra,” Queen Sa-Traica noted to Solar, as he took another and divided it into segments this time. “After such efforts you must take extra time to enjoy this banquet.” An amused gleam lit her eyes as she watched him eat the fruit. “You certainly will, if you continue with those at that rate!”
Solar swallowed and raised a quizzical brow.
“Orines are not simply flavorful,” the queen explained knowingly, “But renowned for their remarkable aphrodisiac qualities.”
Solar's hand paused in midair. The queen took an unconcerned bite of some kind of savory pastry.
“Don't let that stop you, warrior,” she chuckled. “Our clans may differ but I can assure you we're not bashful about such things!”
Slowly, with a perfunctory click of appreciation, Solar broke apart the last segments of fruit. Kate fiddled with her hands in her lap. How many glasses had she had? Two? Did it affect humans as well?
“More?” a server chittered behind them. Both shook their heads simultaneously.
As Kate did so her hair shifted in a subtle but distinctive way, and as Solar politely made himself finish the delicious but traitorous orine his gaze roved over the glossy waves. He'd never thought much about Kate's hair color aside from “ashy brown” but the warm lighting revealed traces of of sumptuous bronze.
But why spend his meal evaluating her hair? Or the hazel eyes, rimmed in a fine fan of short hairs and currently cast down? Her nervous tongue pressed at the seam of soft lips –
Damn her mouth! Now that attribute was something he had long noticed. He jerked his attention away and made an effort at discretion as he signaled a server for some water.
“Music!” The queen's jubilant pronouncement drew Solar from his stupor. A pair of unbloods were drawing two massive barrel-shaped drums into the open space between tables. There were yips of appreciation among the diners, some already abandoning their plates in favor of the prospect of dancing.
Kate was briefly distracted by the unfolding activity. Though her words to Sa-Traica were meant to flatter, they weren't entirely a fabrication. How many people could only dream of witnessing something like this? Could even begin to fathom it?
Aside from drums there were no instruments, nor a strict conventional melody – instead it was made of ringing ululations and fierce chants, with sections of call and response, the latter earning the callers a chorus of roars and rhythmic pounding on tables. With knees bent the dancers stomped and tossed their heads, tresses flying, clapping and slapping their thighs in percussion. The beat was almost trance-inducing. Several females danced also, almost indistinguishable from the males aside from near-flat, firm breasts, and she couldn't resist a glance at Solar to gauge his reaction.
He was fidgety in his chair, his face turned to the dancers but distant, not tracking their movements. Kate's eyes trailed over the twitch in his corded triceps beneath a new-to-her ornamental armband, the distracted contractions in his lower mandibles. As if she'd never seen it before she found herself fascinated by the shadow of rich brown pluming below what would've been his navel, had he possessed one, and arrowing into his belt. Not for the first time, she wondered what specifically it pointed to.
She rotated away in her seat. It was nothing more than innocent curiosity. But she was beginning to suspect the orines did, in fact, have the same effect on humans.
“Please excuse me,” she mumbled, maintaining etiquette though nobody was paying her any attention.
The echo of the drums and dancers followed as she escaped into the corridor. On another night, she would've wanted to keep watching.
As she meandered through the empty passages to the glorified broom closet that served as her room, so did her mind wander. Now that had been damn stupid, drinking so much alien booze. She wondered, with a stifled snicker, what percentage of alcohol it was. But the taste put the best champagne to shame, and she couldn't have known about those extra side effects, right...?
Brisk footsteps came up behind her and whirled around, fumbling for the knife she kept on her hip – but she squinted and saw it was only Solar. Light-headed from the quick spin, she swayed forward, and he caught her under the arms.
“Ax-so-la-kil-is,” she said, sing-songing an attempt at his full name. He didn't reply; maybe she was being impolite. She'd butchered several impossible syllables. “Does it mean anything?”
“Hmm?”
“Your name. Back home names often have meanings.”
She was holding his forearms for support, she realized. She swam up through the haze and tried to focus – she was an adult, not a high-schooler at her first house party. She could handle two drinks. Maybe.
She found her footing and let go. “Is everything alright?”
He loomed, silhouetted against the distant light behind him. His loincloth was longer than usual, more a kilt of leather strips like a gladiator, with a belt of chainmail and a hanging plated panel glinting like fish scales. The whole affair rode dangerously low on his hips, revealing carved ridges of muscle vee-ing down and out of sight. Peeking above the belt was a pale slashing scar she hadn't seen until now. His breathing was fast, fists tight at his sides.
Would the scar feel as tough as the rest of him, or sleek like satin?
Kate looked away.
Solar was not drunk – that took more than a goblet or two of alcohol, no matter how potent – but the unique stimulating qualities of the brew coursed through his veins like lightning. Whether it affected Kate, he could not say. Was it mere inebriation that caused the pliability in her limbs, that made her eyes heavy-lidded and glassy... or something more primal? Was she at this very moment craving the company of a human male? He felt unhinged, driven by something not of his own motivation, and he didn't care for it one iota.
Was her form always so lush, the simple clothes she'd altered to fit her so clinging? Would her soft ooman mouth still carry the taste of the wine?
Why had he followed her out here?
“Yes,” he intoned, sounding detached even to his own ears. “Everything is alright.”
With self-discipline born from years of practice he took the first leaden step back. Then another. One more, and he managed to turn and propel himself back to the dining hall.
On second thought, he remembered the many baskets of orines being consumed, and changed course just before reaching the doors, instead going straight to his quarters.
5.
Kate's entry into the mess hall could not go unnoticed, both due to the thinning crowd and as distinctive as she was against the background of much larger, darker figures. Her novelty on the ship was beginning to wear off but a few casual heads turned as she walked to get a tray. Solar knew she did not like being looked at in such a fashion, like an oddity, but she hid it well.
She had to pass by his table to get in the meal line and as she did she spied him, and smiled briefly.
“Who knew prey could smell like that,” Hirkau, a newly blooded, smirked to the rest of the table.
There was no indication Kate heard, but Solar rather suspected she had.
“Is that any way to speak about a guest?” Solar said once she was out of ear-shot, level-toned but loud enough for the other male to hear him. “Where is your hospitality?”
With a clattering of tusks Hirkau chortled, interpreting the comments as sarcasm. The rest of the table either didn't find it humorous or could read Solar's lack of amusement better than Hirkau could, but either way, the laughter went unreturned by all.
“My pardon,” Hirkau replied once he'd realized his gaffe, though his expression did not match his apology. “I was merely noticing this ooman's positive reaction to seeing you.”
Solar was uncharacteristically discomfited. From what he could tell she carried no unusual scent; that was how she always smelled to him. Was it not like that to others? But he didn't have time to dwell on this further.
“Don't tell me you cannot detect her... interest?” Hirkau prodded, orange eyes gleaming. The rest of the table was divided between uneasy shared glances and intense curiosity as to how the situation would play out. Solar was not known for a quick temper, but no yautja could withstand such passive-aggressive provocation for long.
“I think you just are not familiar with oomans,” he deflected.
“A situation I might be tempted to remedy.” Hirkau leered, leaning out to look past Solar to the line. “In truth, I find her mostly puny and unpalatable, but I think I could perhaps be swayed!”
“You may be swayed,” Solar responded, at last allowing himself a grin, “But I do not have high hopes for any returned attraction. Given that you find difficulty securing female attention from your own kind, I cannot predict much success with another species entirely!”
Guffaws broke out at the table, the tension relieved. Such banter was common, and yet Hirkau scowled as if he'd been mortally insulted. While others made to return to their plates he sprang to his feet, mandibles clacking.
“I am certainly unaware of what else that tag-along could be good for,” he sneered. “Isn't it past time for her to be gone by now? How you can owe a debt of honor to a ooman is beyond my understanding!”
Solar chuckled and turned his head away in deliberate dismissal. “As are a great many things, I'm sure.”
With that Hirkau leaned across the table and shoved him in the shoulder. The noise around them quieted. Solar was taken aback. Hirkau was a hot-head, but to challenge over... what, exactly? Resentment at what he perceived as an unworthy interloper, aimed at the cause? What was his intended outcome?
Solar took his time rising. The other male was brawny and wide, but Solar was taller. He tsked with contempt, and Hirkau hissed in outrage at not being taken seriously.
Scuffles were not infrequent but they were always a source of entertainment, and he imagined more than a few present wouldn't mind seeing the brash warrior knocked down a peg. He was conscious of the many pairs of interested eyes on them. He knew Kate's must be included.
He breathed in deeply, spurred on by – ? Didn't matter.
He returned the shove and in an instant Hirkau leaped out around the end of the table, barreling into Solar and clasping him around the middle. It was a lazy opening move, born of mindless aggression. Solar crouched and dug in to hold his ground, and to the sound of enthusiastic chatter he bent further and flipped Hirkau backward over his shoulders.
The challenger hit the floor flat on his back, wheezing. Solar could have ended it there – Hirkau, a proficient if not exceptional fighter, was too riled up to be effective – but inexplicably he had a mind to put on a show.
He spun to stand over Hirkau, acting bored. He could see the small shape in his peripheral vision that was Kate, but did not look directly at her.
Hirkau rolled out of reach and popped upright, disguising his cough. Solar was lenient enough to let Hirkau take the initiative again and earned a meaty punch clipping his cheek. Solar grimaced at the blow but used Hirkau's momentum against him, throwing him further back along his trajectory and off balance – and when Hirkau oriented himself again Solar seized him by his chest strap and smashed his head into his face.
There was a grisly crunch and Hirkau stumbled into a table, bending double, chartreuse spurting from his mouth. His inner teeth dripped green, upper right mandible bent out at an unnatural angle. It would be a simple reset, but in this moment, the blood spattering his front was visible to all.
Before he could right himself Solar gripped him by both shoulders and drove his knee up under his chin. Hirkau howled at the aggravated pain of the injury, the sound garbled as he tried to muffle himself, but already the entire assembly had seen the swiftness of his defeat.
Solar nearly let loose with a taunting roar, but snuffed the urge; that would be juvenile, indication of a sore winner. Besides, it hadn't been a dazzling victory worth gloating about. Hirkau had folded more easily than expected. Despite the whelp's ill manners and arrogance he'd have no choice but to accept his loss, or only be further humiliated.
And yet Solar couldn't resist a toss of his tress, and without thinking about it a faint but triumphant trill floated out.
At last he looked to Kate. If he'd expected to see admiration on her face, he was left wanting – instead she looked alarmed. Distraught. She left her unfilled tray behind and made a restrained but rapid retreat to the exit.
Without thinking he stepped over the gagging Hirkau, generating a few whoops of laughter from the crowd, and followed.
The ooman could move quickly when she wanted to. Four corridors extended out from the mess hall like spokes of a wheel, and he swiveled to check each one before he at last caught sight of her. His long legs easily covered the distance between them.
“What was that for?” Kate exclaimed in a tremulous voice, shooting him only the most cursory glare as he fell into step alongside her.
Solar cocked his head down at her. “For his egregious insolence.”
She made as if to speed up but he caught her arm, pulling her into a dead-end side passage to shield them from the inquisitive eyes of any who might come by.
“Explain your... disturbance,” he demanded, motioning at her, his good mood fading.
She crossed her arms. It was a gesture their races had in common; there were more of those than he would've predicted. Her fingers left impressions, one short nail making circles on her skin.
“I... I've never seen you like that before.”
He could tell by her subdued tone that the words were not complimentary.
“On the contrary,” he said, “I recall you saw me exactly thus upon our first meeting.”
“That was different. That was kainde amedha. You two just now, you fought over... nothing! Are you always so... brutal? You straight up wiped the floor with him.”
Solar didn't know that specific phrase, but he got the gist of it. Again, he sensed this he should not take it as flattery.
“And yes, I heard what he said,” she continued before he could voice his disgruntled bemusement. Her face was going pink. It did that very often. “At least part of it. I wasn't naive enough to expect a welcome wagon when I got here, Solar. Are you going to fight anyone who... I mean I'm an outsider, I accept it, and you don't have to – for me, I mean...”
Solar drew his mandibles in tightly. Kate spoke in a emotional mish-mash of her language and his, so he missed a few words, but he thought he understood. She had not been impressed by his display of prowess, and in fact was actively uncomfortable with it. Why that bothered him, he was not sure, and not knowing bothered him even more. She was ooman, and was ignorant of their ways. Why should her opinion matter?
Kate's expression had changed now, as if she realized a response was not forthcoming. She compressed her lips, fiddling with her shirt sleeve, looking at the ground with – regret. Doubt. Generally she behaved with directness and clarity, which he valued, but now he couldn't seem to parse anything of meaning from what she'd said. It seemed there was something beneath the surface he was not quite grasping, and that perhaps she also was struggling to divine.
“You speak in circles!” Solar blew out a rumbling puff of air. The inhale back in, however, did nothing to quell his uncertainty, exasperation, and a particular side-thread of irritation for feeling anything at all about it. “You understand nothing! You moralize and offer disrespect instead of...”
He didn't know where to take that sentence. He had been called witty before, quick-tongued, but there was no evidence of any such trait now. Kate's eyes had grown large, and her body language indicated she wanted to lean back. Away from him.
“You test my honor and my patience,” he gritted out, and before he could permit his train of thought to proceed any further he spun on his heel to return to his now-cold meal.
For four cycles after the incident in the cafeteria, roughly analogous to the same number of Earth days, Kate avoided Solar. Maybe it was childish. But though she'd had her share of cross-cultural mishaps in recent weeks, this was the first time they'd really exchanged sharp words.
Interstellar drama. Ridiculous.
She knew Solar's routine reasonably well – which kehrite he favored, which cafeteria was closest to his quarters, which rec center had the court for that ulata ball game he liked, that he worked the second of four shifts in the day cycle, that he'd usually eat after and then train rather than go straight to the kehrite as most others did – and the ship was vast, so it wasn't difficult to steer clear of him. Especially since he made no attempt to seek her out. He could have, if he wanted. He knew where her quarters were, and even if he paid a visit and found her absent, it would be a snap to learn the whereabouts of the sole human onboard.
The lower observation deck was a cherished spot, and one she would miss, if this strange altercation was to lead to her return to Earth. She was not yet numbed to the sight of infinite diamond stars and distant veils of nebula, painted on the inky canvas of space... but it must be old news for everyone else, since she was often the deck's sole occupant.
She asked herself, not for the first time, what she was still doing here. Her wounds had healed. Was Solar waiting on her request to go home? Had she been relegated to the status of obligation? Burden? Her departure was inevitable, so why was she letting herself treat this like a never-ending vacation from reality?
These conundrums and more ran unceasing through the back of her mind like water trickling through cracks in a dam. The constant unwanted stream of speculation was exhausting.
The stars were beautiful but remote, and held no answers.
She kept her head up but her attention fixed ahead as she returned to her room, too drained to make eye contact with strange yautja and wonder what they thought of her. The little chamber was oddly placed, requiring a 45 degree turn into the short, angled corridor it was on. It may be poky and out of the way but at least its position offered extra privacy, as few ever passed by.
As she reached her door a shape at the end of the short corridor caught her eye. She stopped in her tracks.
Solar stood there, his bulk almost filling the space, staring at her with the concentration of a great cat.
Kate's heart beat out an irregular tattoo; she blanked, before managing to nod in courteous greeting. As he approached she blocked out the deafening churn of her thoughts, gathered her poise, and steeled herself for whatever he might say.
She had less than a second to waver at the vehemence in his posture before he slammed her against the door, hands spanning her waist, mandibles flaring and an inaudible sound reverberating in his chest. She went rigid, fear and confusion and adrenaline sparking along her nerves – and then she lashed out on instinct, twisting in his grasp, the circle of his arms like iron bands, like an embrace...
And suddenly her breath left her in a rush. Her head fell forward against his chest, and she swallowed hard. He smelled different – earthy, overwhelming. Sensual.
“I... ” She hadn't planned what to say next.
Shaky hands slid up his torso of their own volition, under the ends of his tresses. The muscles in his neck shifted under her touch. Yearning, long reigned in and denied, blossomed low in her core, and her next inhalation was ragged.
His hands were rough and restless on her back, her hips, her ass. The pressure of his body trapping her against the door frame was almost painful, the entry panel digging into her. She felt intoxicated, drugged, going up as far as she could on her toes. Everything was falling into place. Each past moment with him had been piece after piece of dry kindling, now lit and gone up in a blazing inferno.
He said something in yautja. She struggled to process; his voice was more guttural than usual, her brain foggy and reluctant to translate.
“What?” she stammered, without looking up at him.
“Your room code.”
“Oh.” She turned awkwardly to punch in the six digit sequence of yautja numerals, the panel lighting up in acceptance. The door barely swished open before he shoved her in backwards, claws catching at her clothes, that predatory rattle resonating harsh in his throat.
The space was small and immediately they crashed, entwined, against the opposite wall, the storage lockers clattering. He lifted her and without hesitation she wrapped her legs around his waist, the metal lockers cold against her back for only a moment before they went down in a heap on her bunk.
Face to face now she stared up at him, breathing hard. His deep-set, dark-rimmed golden eyes searched hers, mandibles a little slack. Hands dragged over her, somehow everywhere at once, his body slotted between her thighs.
“Solar,” she breathed, as if saying it for the first time; as if speaking too loudly might break the spell and shock her from the dream.
She carded her fingers through his tress and his reaction was violent, a full-body shudder running through him. It was unclear if that was good or bad, and she paused, but his expanding chest and the flex of his hips indicated the former. His jaws grazed the delicate skin of her neck as his arms folded around her waist and crushed her to him.
She felt dizzy. She wanted; she wanted.
On impulse she kissed the curve where shoulder met neck, pressing the flat of her tongue on him. He started, and made a strangled noise she hadn't heard before. She mouthed at his collarbone, his deltoid; he grew taut as a bowstring, one tusk pricking the vulnerable hollow at the base of her neck.
Her clothing was too hot, too confining, and she pushed at him just enough to gain room to pull her makeshift dress and sports bra off all at once. The spread of his palms skimmed up her bare stomach and she arched up, needing to be closer; needing more. His hands concealed her breasts entirely, claws making twin semi-circles of indentations as he drank her in, intent and penetrating.
Kate wanted to say things; reckless things. Confessions. That she'd wanted him from the beginning, though she hadn't dared acknowledge it even to herself. That any time she'd thought of returning to Earth she'd felt a melancholy tugging, something intangible drawing at her like a magnet. That she thought she'd fallen in love with him.
Through her haze a cold sliver of reality poked through: she didn't know what came next. Their physical structures were reasonably alike, but despite the scant yautja garments, there was one area she had yet to see. And sex wasn't just compatible parts: the separation between his culture and hers seemed a yawning chasm now.
He rose up on his knees, unbuckling his belt and armor, and a lump caught behind her sternum. His undressing was quick, the loincloth falling away to reveal a staggeringly large but otherwise recognizable cock. It was a lighter shade of olive than his abdomen, graced with horizontal ridges along the underside and scalloped around the head in an echo of his skull crest. In a wave of combined titillation and disbelief she wondered how it would feel inside her.
The instant he was free of his garment he pounced, a snarl rippling out of him. He seized her like he meant to devour her, her inner organs all but shaken loose by the brute force of his grasp. Uncertainty warred with crimson lust, with her need to fill the ache in her heart and body that was a perfect Solar shape.
His claws left searing scratches paralleling her spine, not far from scars left by the kainde amedha encounter, and Kate squeaked. His mandibles flared, as if he thrilled to the high-pitched sound, his focus on her burning white-hot. He ripped at her underwear, surging forward to bite her shoulder with a ferocity that splintered the glow of arousal.
“Ow!” She shrank under him. “Solar, stop – ”
He pulled back, bracing his hands on the bunk on either side of her, his expression heated and dazed.
“You... withdraw consent?” His mandibles drew in, resigned.
“No, of course not, I – you're just hurting me.”
He blinked as he assessed her, as if to clear away the fog of lust. “Do oomans not couple in this way?”
“Well, we do, but – ” She wasn't sure how to tactfully ask if such sexual aggression was his preference or yautja standard. “I feel like we're in the kehrite.”
He pondered that. “For us it is very enjoyable while mating, to spar so.”
“I like that too, sometimes...” She was grateful she was already flushed so he couldn't see her redden yet again. “But you're a lot bigger than me. I'm not made of glass but if you keep going like that...”
He passed his fingers down between her breasts, claws dragging enough to make her shiver but not to draw blood. As he observed her reaction his mandibles relaxed again, pupils expanding.
From his throat came a velvety vibration, deliberate and steady, that she could only have described as a purr. Her body responded with an instant and involuntary frisson and he covered her with his broad frame, hands sliding under her to lift her hips off the mattress. She clung with both arms to his neck, fingers snagging in his necklaces, his pulse thrumming under the brush of her lips.
There was no warning before he thrust abruptly into her. She cried out as he worked himself forward, hissing in her ear. She scrabbled at his shoulders: she felt impaled, full to impossibility, an overwhelming but exquisite torture. If she breathed, she might shatter. She saw stars as each ridge on his cock popped over her tightly stretched tissues. She heard a high keen; it must be hers.
Solar went still, tensing as if his restraint took great effort. “Do you wish me to stop – ”
“Don't!” she gasped.
He growled and snapped forward, seating himself fully in her – she thought he already had been. Her cry now was one of pain, her gut wracked with cramps that eclipsed any pleasure, nails leaving grooves on him as she gulped and fought for air.
“I changed my mind,” she blurted, tears springing to her eyes. “I can't, you have to...”
His withdrawal was immediate and he braced himself above her, panting erratically. He slanted his head aside, wrestling himself under control, and Kate winced as she squeezed her knees together. She wanted to scream with frustration and embarrassment, the slight mismatch of otherwise complementary parts dousing their passion like ice water. She'd have settled for making out like teenagers, but even that was unattainable.
She splayed her fingers over his chest, the cadence of his pounding heart different than hers – a four beat meter than her own one two, one two. Her thumb found a puncture scar, perceptible only by feel rather than sight. Sleek like satin. The tips of his tresses brushed her arm.
“Give me your hand,” she said.
His head swung back to her, intense and watchful eyes flicking over her face, and without question put his weight on one arm and offered his hand, palm up.
Her fingers had to spread wide, metacarpals standing out in relief, to lace with his. The first knuckle joints were calloused but his palm was softer than expected, protection owed to the fingerless rhynth-hide gloves he usually wore planetside. If he were to curl his fist, hers would disappear inside.
She brought their joined hands down her belly, disentangling them and leading his between her parting legs.
“Is this something yautja do?” she breathed.
At a loss, he shook his head. “It would hurt,” he replied, as if it was obvious, fanning out his fingers to indicate his claws.
“We'll be careful. Look.”
She positioned his hand so his claws were safely out of the way on her mound, and as his large palm covered her sex she sucked in a gasp. She pressed him down harder, her hips rising up, and his eyes sparked.
“This gives you pleasure?”
She took that to mean yautja females did not, in fact, have that tiny but key part of her sexual anatomy she was currently squirming up against the firm heel of his palm.
They could talk about the clitoris later.
Kate moved his hand under her own, demonstrating the motions, and he watched her face with unbridled desire as she ignited once more under him. His fingers sank in above the slope of her pubic bone and as he took over the pace she gripped his forearm, whimpering, overcome by the wash of all-consuming sensation. She'd been oblivious – in denial, if she was being honest – about her evolving feelings toward Solar, and now she burned for him.
His gaze was riveted, heavy with arousal. Her vision swam as she reached her peak and she clasped his hand, shifting it just so, just right – she went rigid, bowing concave, a choked scream flying out of her as she climaxed into his touch.
As the aftershocks rippled through her she sagged back onto the mattress, tingling and flushed, yet not quite ready to release him. Without opening her eyes she ran her fingertips into the long Vs between his fingers, up again along the sturdy points of each claw, before abandoning her exploration and pulling him down to her again.
His muscular thighs spread hers, cock sliding deliciously over her heated folds, and she shivered, meeting his gaze. Sated though she was she craved the final fulfillment of what had been building for so long; had to have him, couldn't wait.
Solar said nothing, just gave her a look, confirming. Her pang of anxiety was overridden by longing for him, by need, and with a shaky breath she tilted up in assent.
He framed her head and shoulders with his powerful arms, hands cradling her skull, and again rose that hypnotic purr from somewhere deep inside him. Her eyes fluttered closed again.
His entrance was slower this time, more controlled, and she exhaled tightly through clenched teeth. She was more prepared to take him now but it was an exercise in concentration, to will her tension to dissipate. She focused on the sound he made, flowing through her like a current beneath a still and dusky sea.
As he moved within her she could only hold on to him. It hurt – he would stop if he knew. But with each stroke her body adjusted and yielded to him, discomfort fading to swelling pleasure. The heat and texture of his cock filling her was indescribable, the sheer thrill of being in his arms even more surreal, and she moaned as he bore down on her, tusks butting against the crown of her head.
He came in near silence but she could hear it catching in his throat, stifled and inhuman – as if his completion was too great to be expressed with mere vocalization. His release spilled scalding and overfull inside her, unspeakably erotic, and she pressed her forehead into his chest.
Kate would've been content to just lay there, half squashed under him and listening to his breathing slow to normal, but their height difference was such that they weren't face-to-face and he adjusted his position to remedy this. Idle claws combed through her hair, his eyes like gilt half-moons beneath languid lids.
“I must know the ooman post-coital customs,” he stated, voice husky in timbre but clear in intent. She almost burst into giggles at such unexpected pillow talk but his expression was sincere, waiting for her response.
“It depends,” she settled on. “What are yours?”
He turned that over. “It also varies. When a female is in estrus she will mate a male as many times as she chooses or until pregnancy is achieved, and then they separate. There may or may not be any further interaction, according to their preference. If they pair solely for leisure, they may enjoy each other's company awhile, or on occasion continue into a relationship of mutual attachment.”
“We do that too. Well, not the pregnancy part. The rest of it.”
He rolled off, gathering her to him.
“That is very convenient,” he trilled, low and sonorous, “For you and I.”
“When you fought in the cafeteria.” Kate lay tucked against Solar's side, rather mesmerized by the feel of the ridges of his obliques, expanding and contracting with each breath. “It didn't bother me. Not really. It was just... something a man would do for a woman he cared about, at least where I'm from. It forced me to imagine us like that, and I didn't know how to deal with it, especially since I was sure it meant nothing to you.”
He took a moment. His brows drew together, as if assembling his words and battling the hesitation in laying them bare.
“It would be wrong to not return your honesty,” he relented, sitting upright. The cuffs in his tress clicked together as the individual tendrils swayed forward. “While I had no deliberate intention to seek your approval, that is how we conduct courtship, and I engaged without realizing what drove me to such a display. I was angry when my win did not succeed in the expected way, though I had to give it further consideration to fully understand that illogical reaction.”
It might be the longest uninterrupted string of sentences she'd ever heard from him. It hadn't been hard to deduce that his culture was the polar opposite of touchy-feely, and even though he seemed less tightly-wound than the other yautja she'd encountered, she got the impression this amount of emotional openness was a herculean effort for him.
Apparently deeming the matter concluded, he exhaled, rose off the bed, and retreated to the minuscule washroom.
As she listened to the sink water and the muffled but ever-present hum of the ship's engines, her thoughts expanded outward from the serene bubble of satisfaction she'd existed in, entwined in silence with Solar.
She'd always been shy, a bit of a loner. Not anti-social, but drawn to the wild and quiet places of the world. Her feelings ran deep but she was often reticent to share them, not because she didn't want to, but for worry of how they'd be received. That romantic inclinations wouldn't be returned, that she'd seem overeager, or be fobbed off with excuses and hollow assurances. It was better not to try too hard, so if it ended in failure, she could pretend it never mattered much at all.
At least from Solar she knew she could give, and expect, unfaltering frankness.
Yet as he exited the washroom and began to dress she felt the old fears resurfacing. And this time she had good reason. If yautja were as casual about sex as they appeared, she needed to know his intent. It wasn't enough to assume he shared her feelings. She was a fish out of water already; she wouldn't make a total fool of herself.
“It's time for me to start thinking about going home,” she began without preamble.
Had she not known Solar she would have quailed under his look. He went still, like machinery brought to a grinding halt.
“You have intention to leave?” he bristled.
“I don't know.”
He fitted his pauldron to his shoulder and gave a particularly savage yank to the straps.
“Wasn't this meant to be temporary?” Kate continued. “I'm more than healed now.” Do you want me not to go? Have you been putting it off, as I have? She couldn't quite spit it out, her commitment to candor filtering away like sand through her fingers. “Maybe it makes sense.”
He went down into a crouch before her, and despite it halving his height she had to sit up on the bed to be level with that piercing stare.
“I do not wish it,” he said forcefully. He took her chin between thumb and fore-knuckle, and she leaned into it. “I brought you for medical care out of duty, and could not bring myself to deliver you back. It may be a weakness but it is beyond stopping now.”
She barely breathed as she read his countenance, decoding the expressions on those formidable features. His mandibles worked a little, his eyes both serious and bright.
“You torment me with this look,” he growled.
“How can I torment you?” She spoke almost wholly in yautja now. For such a warlike society, it was an irony that their rich and formal vocabulary lent so well to discussions of the heart. “If you mean what you say, my only feelings for you are ones that cannot torment.”
“I always mean what I say.” Both hands came up to capture her face now, as if he wanted to be sure she understood. He did not blink. “Upon my honor, I speak truth, and I ask you to stay.”
A million questions poured into her mind at once, too many bottlenecking to be voiced. She thought of how this might be received, if it was taboo, how the current primarily indifferent attitudes toward her might change and if it would affect Solar's status.
“Will it be allowed?”
“My value to the clan is significant, my trophy wall unsurpassed, and reputation beyond reproach,” he retorted, puffing up. “I will do as I please.”
It would be comfortable to guard her vulnerability like a child hides a broken vase but she had to know, had to see and scrutinize this from every facet. She watched the hackles of his pride relax as he focused on her once more, waiting for whatever was about to spill out.
“Solar, I just... want you to be sure.”
He considered her, trailing one claw over her cheek, watching its path.
“Not long ago,” he said, “You asked me if our names have meanings. Upon birth we receive two names: my familiar name you know, and my lineage name is Kiskja. Later, an individual might gain a third, which is more of an epithet than a name – generally related to a physical characteristic, a notable skill or deed, or aspect of temperament.”
“Do you have one?”
“I do. It is Ke'Hullan. It means, 'steadfast.'”
Kate tried out the full triad of names on her tongue, shaping them without sound so she didn't stumble over it; a worshipper in silent prayer. This close, she could see the fine copper ring around the fearless gold of his irises.
“Do you think me worthy of this title?”
He could have left her on Earth to die of injury and exposure; transported her here then ignored her, conscience clear; dumped her at the nearest populated planet to fend for herself. Shrugged it off if other yautja hassled her – if she was too weak to stand up to them, that was her problem – or let her move about the ship unarmed and unskilled in any form of defense.
She cared for him. Deeply. Wildly. Did she trust him the same way?
“Sei.” She covered his hands with her own. “Yes.”
“Then we need say no more.”
As she exhaled, flooded with the warmth of assurance, he reached out with his bottom pair of mandibles and set them just under her chin.
“Is that a kiss?” she teased.
“Kissss?” he repeated, retracting them to mimic her.
“Yeah, a kiss. I did it earlier.” She turned her lips into his palm, exaggerating the sound. “Like that.”
He trilled. “Never again will you find me admitting to any superiority of oomans, but in this one matter, I concede.”
She gazed into his eyes: their hue so otherworldly, yet their expression the furthest thing from foreign. She could almost laugh, both at the surreal absurdity of it all and at the boundless, unexpected euphoria. Theirs had been a chance meeting, one in a trillion, beyond anything she could've ever conceived of. The slightest difference in events and this wouldn't have been so much as a daydream... his ship no more than a shooting star she may or may not have noticed, flaring by Earth's atmosphere and beyond, never to pass into each other's orbit again.
“In this one matter?” She bit back a smile, bubbling up as if her bliss couldn't be contained. “You want to bet on that?”
Solar dropped his hands, resting his arms on his knees, head tilting in silent question.
If dimples could be sly, hers would be. “Because you haven't seen what else I can do with my mouth.”