Page 18 of Invasive Species (Outcasts of Oloria #2)

TWELVE

GARA

Over the next five weeks, Arra-bellah joins us daily to see the barn ‘shaping up,’ as she calls it.

The structure of the lower floor is finished and we are working on the first level, restoring the beams supporting the wooden floor.

Plasteek would be sturdier but Arra-bellah is insistent, and to my surprise, I come around to seeing her vision.

The wood smells nice and shapes well, so I’m pleased with her choice. I’m even more pleased when she comes in just to look at our work, her delighted smile making my hearts thump harder.

I sit with her to expand details of the plans in our comp system.

She sees beyond the shell to something intangible, and I bring her scribbled ideas into solid electrons to share them with the rest of us.

My expertise breaks down the elements to decide what needs to be done first to bring her vision to life, and she seems amazed I can do this for her.

Working on it after my crewmates have all turned in for sleep is no hardship when I imagine her gasps of amazement in response.

Arra-bellah also comes to me before our swim session every day, and this crisp morning is no exception .

“Up for a challenge?” she asks, her breathless question a fog in the yard.

It's been over a month as they measure Earth time, and I've never said no. I give her a nod and she grins back as if my answer is always a pleasant surprise.

Glancing at Dom over my shoulder, she raises her voice to say, “And you'd better try to win, I don't want any false victories.”

This reassures Dom's Parthiastock reflexes, and he gestures for me and Arra-bellah to lead the way. I heat up my chest to guard from the chill in the air. The season is turning warmer slowly, but the amount of daily precipitation hasn’t abated.

The track to the lake used to be lined with gray rimmed grass which cracked underfoot, but now the ground sports clumps of new growth with little buds.

Arra-bellah races up to one. “Daffodils! My favorite. Wait ‘til you see the color on these.”

“I’ll wait.” I pull to a stop next to her. Although mine towers over hers, we stand shoulder to shoulder.

She nudges my chest with her elbow. “No, hah, it'll take a few days, but when they do, this whole hillside will be covered with hundreds of them, bright yellow trumpets with a ruff like a star.”

I find it hard to imagine but clearly, she can. “What challenge do you propose today?”

Her green eyes dance in amusement with the promise of calamity, like an approaching glittering avalanche, albeit tiny. “We’ll have a race.”

“I will win, I have longer arms,” I retort. Again I watch her reaction, but she seems pleased by my assertion, not angered. I can relax around her, not having to watch every word that falls from my mouth.

“Size ain’t everything,” she shoots back, hand on her hip. She’s correct, because despite her stature, she’s an intense force of nature.

My face aches, and I realize it's from smiling. Something I do constantly when she's around.

Her gaze swoops up from my lips back to meet mine. “We're going to have a race underwater. I reckon I can hold my breath for longer than you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You're bigger, you need more oxygen.”

“Size isn't everything,” I remind her.

Her eyes go wide as the Earth moon. “Can you breathe underwater?”

For some reason, I get the impression my answer to this question is critical. “No, I can't.”

“Aww, that's a shame. Thought it could be an alien thing.”

She falls quiet next to me. Have I disappointed her? As we crest the brow of the hill I say, “Maybe I can, I've never checked. There might be a surprise in my genetic template.”

“Then let's investigate. For science, of course.”

We hurry into the water, and I heat my core to combat the icy grip of the water. She’s overtaken by involuntary shivers, as well as a quantity of Earth expletives.

“ Drok na ,” I offer.

“What's that mean?” she asks through chattering teeth.

“It's a satisfying phrase to use when things aren't going to plan, along with things like ‘choke me’.” My throat tightens.

“Kind of like our ‘fuck me,’ then.”

My nanites translate it multiple ways: a swear word, yes, but also an invitation. A carnal one. Not an order, no, a choice, made together.

Normally I'd do my best to stay beneath a female’s notice, but with Arra-bellah it's different. My scales shimmer to match what she's wearing, coloring me the same deep-space black as her tight-fitted wetsuit. Even under the icy water I can see it molds to her curves perfectly.

“Ready? I have to do this now or never,” the tiny human says.

I don’t know what she’s referring to until she takes a dramatic deep breath and submerges. Taking a gulp of air, I duck under next to her, and then she shoots off swimming.

Following closely through the murky water, I can make out her hair blooming around her pale face. Darker pigments dust her cheeks, what she calls freckles, scattered like the speckled stars of a new galaxy, and as we race, I can't help but wonder where else she might have them on her skin.

Realization hits me like a laser blast. I'm actually interested in her. I… desire her. Me, the clone who's kept a wide berth of all females after what they did to me.

My lungs burn. I didn't take a big enough breath. But perhaps I can breathe underwater?

I inhale a little and immediately the burning intensifies. Double drok na . I stop and try to cough the water out, attempting to stand on the muddy bottom. But we've gone too deep, and I'm flailing.

A clamp on my arm makes me look up. Arra-bellah pulls toward the light splintering above me. I follow, still coughing clouds of bubbles, and burst up onto the surface where I continue emptying my lungs.

“This way.” Arra-bellah’s grip doesn't waver as she tugs me to the side of the lake. Once I get my feet under me, I wade over to the side and lift myself out, trying to swallow back more coughs. I don't want to spit and vomit in front of her.

“Get it all out,” she says, nimbly lifting herself out of the water and rubbing my back with firm strokes.

It's not very effective, but that doesn't matter. Arra-bellah came back to help me. She saw I was in trouble and she saved me, even though this is a race .

Her cheeks are pink and lips chapped from the cold. If I wrap her in my arms, I’d warm her or, better yet, strip the wet clothes off her to bare her to me at long last and see those freckled stars for myself.

My scales heat as the need becomes all consuming.

Yes. This feels right.

“Doing better?” she asks, not knowing how much freer I feel allowing this truth into my life. This desire. My choice.

When I nod, she gives a relieved smile. “Guess that answers whether or not you can breathe underwater. Big no.”

“Indeed.” I search her face for any sign of disappointment, but she seems content to rub my back. Heat spreads from her touch, not entirely just from my scales as I warm them for her. I’m reacting to her.

She pulls her hand away and stands, not meeting me in the eyes. “Er, okay. Great. Glad you're okay.”

Why is her face changing to pink? It seems to be the only color humans can turn, but what does it mean, and why are my cocks responding to the shade?

She holds out a hand for me to take. I do so just for the pleasure of leaning on her a little, but step away when Dom and Arture and the others crowd around me, making sure I'm not damaged by the escapade.

Only my pride is, but in compensation I have a memory to treasure: Arra-bellah, pulling me to air.

As we walk back, her in a towel, she starts talking. “Now we've got the downstairs agreed, we have some time before I need to add details to the upstairs, correct?”

“Yes, that's the plan.” She's watching the tendrils of steam curl off me. Or is she staring at my shoulders? I lift one hand to touch my hair, making the cap of my shoulder tense and my bicep bulge. I'm not as muscular as the Parthiastock or Ilia, yet her eyes are locked onto my physique.

She pulls her gaze away, pink dusting her cheeks alongside her freckles. “So, anyway, the best thing I can do for Ellen is focus on marketing now. I need to put a campaign together.”

I refocus with effort on what she’s saying rather than her body language. “That sounds very war-like. I'm not known for tactics, but I will do my best to assist.”

“It isn't war,” Arra-bellah says with a chuckle. “I could get sales going for El-len if I drum up a bit of interest now.”

“However I can help, I will do it.” I'm bound to do so anyway, but now I want to help her. Please her.

“Well…” Her smile turns hesitant. Why does that look make me think I'll regret my promise? “I have an idea, but I need to think about it.”

That sounds ominous, and yet a frisson of excitement sparks through me. What will she ask of me?

Rain spots around us as we clatter into the yard in front of the house and barn.

The chickens cluck and fuss around us, and I prepare to move off with the rest of my unit to continue the work on the barn.

Her hair weaves in the air between us, glinting even in the weak midday sunlight of this planet.

It looks soft to the touch. My fingers twitch as I refrain from reaching out.

“Do you need anything?” Arra-bellah asks. “I don’t mean work-wise, I mean you.”

I stare at her for a moment. No one has ever asked me that question until Ilia, when he asked me what supplies I need. “We have protein, a place to exercise and a place to sleep. We have sufficient.”

“Yes, okay, but what about entertainment? Downtime?” At my furrowing brow she says, “You guys do relax, right? ”

The nanites translate that slowly. “No. Such a thing sounds inefficient.”

“Oh, no, this will not do.” She puts her hands on her hips. “I’m instituting a movie night. I'll set something up in the garden when the weather turns nice. I'd have you inside, but that's for El-len to… never mind.”

She chews her lip, a flash of flat white teeth against pale pink. My scales cycle to match, white and pink on my hands.

But instead of hiding them, I want to show her. “We don't have to go inside. That's Ellen's private domain.”

“I'm sure it would be fine, but…” She tucks hair behind her ear, a futile gesture with how much flies around her face, and her eyes sparkle with mischief.

It’s the same look she gives me before spilling out a new idea for how the lintel should look in the barn. I mentally adjust and get ready to capture her vision so I can plot it out.

She says, “Let's have movie night in the lean-to. I’ve designed that pizza oven.”

“Ah yes. But I've always wanted to know… what is a peet-sa?” My nanites can't translate the word.

She swirls her hand in a circle. “A big dough disk with tomatoes, cheese and whatever other toppings you want. Yes. Pizza night. Let's do it. Please? I’ll get you the designs.” The way her lower lip pouts out sends a shock straight down my midsection to my cocks.

I glance down at my scales to find they’ve strobed to match the paleness of her arms and the light brown freckles in a constellation along her forearm. My fingers have even taken on the flashes of color staining her fingers.

And even though there's no evidence for mate binding, it feels real. Very real.

The realization makes my cocks throb. This tiny, feisty human has somehow got inside my defenses, and I don’t want to fight it anymore. Instead, questions fire inside me, my ingrained drive to learn and experiment on overdrive.

I have to learn more about Earth courtship rituals now, so I don't fall into any traps. On Oloria, males enter the mating competitions. Is there something like that here? I have to know what she would expect, what would please her.

“I want something to read,” I blurt.

She blinks at me. “In exchange for the pizza oven? I guess. Sure.”

Her eyes dim a little; I've disappointed her. I replay the conversation in my head, cursing my clumsy tongue.

“No, not in exchange. We can try eating movies and pizza ovens. I was thinking of something else.” I swallow hard, averting my eyes from her soft lips. Lips which are purely functional like mine for eating, drinking and talking, and yet they beg for my attention, for me to do something with them.

She brightens like the sun rising on this cold world. “Oh, that's fine, I do that all the time, if you hadn't noticed.”

She rubs her hands together and I wrap mine around them without thinking about it, heating my palms to protect her from the chill. “You’re too cold. Go inside, warm up.”

Her eyes widen, her fingers stilling in my grasp. She leans in toward me, just a touch, arcing toward the warmth. “That’s nice. Thank you.”

My scales flash turquoise green with pure joy.

She beams. “I'll lend you my e-reader. I should be working on my art anyway, and this will be one less distraction.”

“I’m pleased to help in some small way.” Oh, All Mother, how her smile in return wraps around my hearts like a net, snagging me as surely as a trap.

Whatever’s happening to me, I can’t tell whether it's my genetics, whether I want her for my own sake, or if there’s a difference.