Page 30 of Invasive Species (Outcasts of Oloria #2)

TWENTY-ONE

ARABELLA

The light is so bright it stings, but I fight through it. When I can see again, I wake up in my bed in Ellen’s farmhouse, and standing over me is one of my favorite women.

“Ellen!”

She smiles, ash brown hair in a long braid down her back and cheeks pink in a post-vacation glow. “You’re awake. Thank heavens.”

I sit up and open my mouth to ask where Gara is and what happened to her and when she came back and a hundred million other things running through my brain when Gara drops out of the chair next to the bed and kneels beside me.

His huge fingers engulf my wrist to feel my pulse, and he frowns down at the bed like it had better give him a good answer.

His presence quiets my mind like laying a blanket over it, and I rest back against the pillows.

The green alien looks up at me at last, bloodshot eyes softening. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. A bit stiff.” My muscles throb like I went for a ten- mile swim rather than a one-mile run, all my muscles aching. Clearly, I’m not as fit as I think I am.

Ellen looks between us, a small smile spreading across her face. “Cute.”

I lob a pillow at her. Gara grunts, a ‘what the fuck’ Gara sound, so I reassure him, “It’s okay, Ellen and I show love like this.”

He blinks slowly as he absorbs this. “I see.”

Ellen asks, “Gara, can you get Ilia for me?”

“At once,” he replies, but he doesn’t seem too eager to move away from me. Warmth spreads through me as he paces away with many a backward glance, like he wants to make sure I’ll be okay without him.

I give him a little wave and ease up to sitting.

Once the door clicks closed, Ellen tilts her head. “Well? What went on here while I was away?”

“Nuh-uh, you first.” I pat the bed for her to sit.

She hops down, folding her legs underneath herself, just in time for my barrage of questions. “Where the heck did you go? Did you really visit space? How long did it take? What did you see?”

“Whoa, slow down. We went to another planet entirely.” Her eyes sparkle. “To Oloria.”

Ellen tells me all about a desert planet with a dictatorial matriarchal culture and a city that caters to a female’s every whim.

“Tubers are basically slaves,” Ellen says with a scowl.

“All natural resources have been stripped away by men in wars, apparently, so the women are rebuilding. Most of the guys are Tubers and any of their actual sons are called True Born. Ilia is the first Tuber to ever get into the Mating Games, and he killed it, beating their games and then giving them the alien equivalent of the middle finger before he left. Serves them right. ”

There’s a new ring in her voice to the way she says the big growly alien’s name. “So. Uh. You and Ilia returned here together, but, like, are you together together?”

Her flush is the only answer I need.

I whoop. “You go, girl! Look at you, snagged the winner of these Mating Games on a whole other planet.”

“He wasn’t exactly the winner, but we were done playing,” she mutters, fiddling with her hair. The waves and swoops of her hair are completely different to her normal French plait. Very alien indeed.

“So? What’s he like?” I wrap my arms around my legs. My body gives a little twinge, like I’m coming down with something, but I shove it aside for this. I can always take a Tylenol later.

Her face softens, eyes going glassy. “He’s super protective without being all up in my face all the time or keeping me to himself. He just wants me to be happy and healthy, and preferably close to him.”

“Aw. Sounds like you have it bad.”

She shoots me a cheeky grin. “What about you, what’s been going on here?”

“Um, well…” I count off on my fingers, which are feeling sensitive around the joints. “Nothing burned down, but I'm really sorry, Gara did fry Old Mae with some kind of laser.”

“Yes, I’ve seen her. Purple and claws suit her.” Ellen shrugs. I guess aliens are a part of her life now.

“Okay, cool. I progressed the building work by adding some really cool features, but, uh… that means your planning permission isn’t valid.” I drop my hands in my lap. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

She pats my shoulder. “Yeah, Laura told me. It’s okay,” she reassures me, but her resignation hurts. A lot. I guess my friends are always compensating for my shortcomings. “I don’t understand it much either, that’s why I have Laura looking at it now.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t fuck anything up,” I say, only a small tiny bit resentful.

Ellen frowns. “But I wouldn’t get her to do the designs. That’s your strength, and you doing the actual design is something I wouldn’t change.”

Well, that’s awesome. I lift my fingers to keep counting. “Well, nothing else became a screaming priority, except…” I frown and pout my lips, as if pretending to have trouble remembering.

Ellen shoves my shoulder playfully, except pain radiates down my body.

“Ouch.”

“‘Ouch’?” Gara is back, shouldering through the doorway. Ilia fills the space beyond, dipping his head to prevent headbutting all the wooden beams on the ceiling. Two hulking aliens fill this little farmhouse to bursting, but they aren’t scary. More… familiar.

“Hey, Ilia,” I say, throat scratchy.

“Hello Arra-bellah.” Ilia bows his head. “Gara, what’s your assessment on your patient?”

Gara takes my wrist again. “A little fast, for humans.”

“Might be because you’re here,” Ellen teases.

I stick my tongue out at her. “Yes, well. We’re dating,” I say proudly.

Ilia’s scales ripple with little clacks. “Dat…ting?”

“I have entered the mate binding process with Arra-bellah, Ilia,” Gara says, standing up slowly and pressing a fist to his chest. Must be a salute.

“Is this a mutual choice?” Ilia asks, looking from me to him.

“Yes, from my point of view.” My heart judders a little. What if it’s involuntary for Gara ?

“I choose her,” Gara says simply, and it feels so good, like a cold bath.

I shudder. Actually, a cold ice bath is the last thing I want. “So, there’s that. No biggie.”

“I see.” Ellen smooths my hair. “Rest up, Ara. I’ve invited the others over tomorrow for a pizza party, because apparently some clever lady designed us a pizza oven.”

“A fucking great pizza oven,” I mumble, because I’m really tired. Like, really tired, fingers of sleep dragging at my eyelids.

“I’ll stay with her,” Gara says, settling into the chair next to me with a creak and clasping his hands firmly between his knees. He looks pretty immovable, the colors of his skin alternating cream and rose in a starburst pattern.

I glance at the comforter over my body, a really old one patterned with red roses on off-white. What does it mean when he’s copying colors near me?

“Well, give us a shout if you need anything,” Ellen says, shooing Ilia to the door. I smile for my friend finding someone strong and dependable who will make her dreams a reality at last.

Now to make sure I don't fuck up what me and Gara are building together.

They slide the door shut quietly behind them, and I take Gara’s hand. “Don’t worry, I have an amazing Welsh immune system. This cold will be licked soon.”

“You should not lick any cold virus,” Gara says, a stern edge to his voice.

I snuggle closer to him. “I love your strict voice. I could totally imagine you as a severe dom type sometimes.”

“Dom?” He cocks his head. “My shipmate?”

“No, like sub and dom.” I pat the mattress next to me. “Come into bed to warm me up and bring the e-reader. I think book 8 of The Planet of the Pirate Prince has a dom-sub couple. Nothing says recovering from a chill like corrupting the innocent.”

He moves his tree trunk thighs in slowly, then lowers onto the bed. His weight tips it, and I roll right into his arms. Yummy.

He tucks me next to him, left arm cradling my head. “Well, I look forward to being corrupted by you, Arra-bellah.”

I snuggle close. He smells so good, like pure ocean ozone and eucalyptus, and it clears my head like blowing away a fog. “Hey, has your scent changed?”

He sniffs his right forearm gingerly. “I suppose it has. Hm. Is it offensive to you?”

Each in-breath opens up my nose and lungs. “It’s great. It’s like you’re perfect for me,” I say with a happy sigh, then stiffen. Shit, that usually sends guys running.

But Gara hunkers down lower, pulling me closer to his chest. “Good.” He’s still frowning though, perhaps worried about me.

I boop his nose. “Want to read me a few chapters?”

“Yes, of course. Anything to speed your healing.” He pulls the reader out from his pants pockets and flicks it to book 8. He’s adept with those huge fingers, and my mind would absolutely be going naughty places if I felt well.

“Chapter 1, The Prisoner.” Gara’s mouth twitches. “These all start with the females in very precarious situations.”

“Yep, they do. Waiting for their big, strong alien to save them.” I slide my arm around his barrel of a chest. It rises and falls with his deep, even breathing, like I’m being gently rocked.

He glances down at me, the lines around his eyes softening, and starts to read. “ The prisoner is led to the throne room…”

I sleep deep and long, but when I finally wake, my body aches worse than before. Every muscle protests, tight and sore.

Gara offers me water. He looks worn, his shoulders sagging, but his eyes remain sharp, ever watchful, protective.

It’s strange, having someone fuss over me. I haven’t had that in years. I don’t hate it. It’s comforting, like I’m not alone in this mess of pain and exhaustion. I do worry though—he hasn’t rested nearly enough, and the shadows beneath his eyes tell the story.

“Now that Ellen and Ilia are back, we can relax a little, go back to how we were before: me creating art and chaos, and you looking after everyone like a stern ward matron. Maybe I should try for a pinch less chaos, though.”

“And I, a splash less stern,” he adds, running his fingers through his chestnut auburn hair. It sticks up like he’s a surfer dude, except his face is tight with worry.