Page 31 of Invasive Species (Outcasts of Oloria #2)

I gently smooth my fingers along the same grooves he made, tracing his scalp. He even has scales here, little ridges all connected in a regular pattern.

His eyes slide shut like a contented cat, a deep rumble rising from his chest.

“You are purring.”

Eyelids snapping open, he scowls at the window.

“It's okay, I like it. Relax.”

He shakes his head. “I need to keep watching on you. Your temperature’s too high, it's not optimal?—”

Oh boy, he needs a chill pill. “Come on, let’s get ready for the pizza party,” I say, forcing myself up.

Gara steadies me as my legs wobble. “Are you sure? ”

“Yeah. Even if I sit in a corner all wrapped up and crash early, I want to hang out with everyone.”

“Then… what about pain management?” He rubs the center of his chest while still staring at me.

Oh, no, he must be feeling what I’m feeling, the mating bond thing. I ask, “What does it feel like now?”

“What does what feel like now?”

I rub my own chest. “The chest-glowy thing. What’s it like?”

He thrusts his hand down. “It’s probably psychosomatic, but I don’t need to feel anything in order to tell you’re suffering.”

“Ah, so it is uncomfy. I’ll take a painkiller in that case. Ellen has them in the house somewhere.”

Far from placating him, his hands drop, defeated. “Regardless of how I can tell, I know you’re fighting through discomfort. I wish you would listen to me.”

“I’ll be an hour, at most. Promise.”

Gara helps me dress and hobble downstairs. Laura’s working away stiff backed in the corner of the lounge, fingers flying across the keyboard. It’s almost like she’s hyperfocused, she doesn’t even turn her head toward us.

I raid Ellen’s medicine cabinet, neck two pills and escape out the garden door. There’s a rare break in the weather and the cold March sun shines sharp and bright outside. I fill my lungs with the sharp air, then cough it out.

In the garden next to the crashed orange spaceship is a sleek, super sexy oval hovering in the air, all matt black like it sucks color from the air.

That must be how Ellen and Ilia got back.

Next to that they’ve set up a tent next to the pizza oven, which is already smoking from the open maw ready to receive dough.

Ellen and the triplets heave dry hay squares into the tent for us to sit on.

Floss darts back and forth, her energy boundless as she races alongside another dog.

But it’s not just her speed that catches my eye—her fur is different now, longer and an ethereal white that practically glows.

It flows like silk in the air around her, as if she’s not entirely of this world anymore.

The light catches her in a way that makes her seem like she’s floating through space.

I shade my eyes to stare at her. “Whoa, Floss got a makeover.”

“Floss descended from spacehounds, visitors from another world,” Ellen says, pulling straw out of her hair. “She can talk to me in my head now.”

I blink slowly. Then I turn to Gara. “Can Old Mae talk to us in our heads?”

He shudders. “No, nor would I want her to.”

Ellen bursts into laughter. “Floss agrees. That chicken harbors plans for world domination.”

As if on cue, Old Mae struts in, inspecting the tent put up in her yard, long claws clicking on the ground. New purple and white feathers sprout up and down her long body.

“Is she okay?” I ask, eyeing the murder chicken.

“Nicole says she is living her best prehistoric life, but we will have to stop Nicole from studying Mae today: it's film night,” Ellen says firmly.

Film night. It used to be my favorite when we were younger, the night we’d all gather, carefree and close.

Now it’s the only time I see my friends, who’ve all carved out real, grown-up lives for themselves.

A farmer, a lawyer, a vet. I hang out with brainiacs, and then.

.. there’s me. The odd one out. Old words from schoolteachers drift back to me, bubbling up like muddy water: Unreliable. Flighty. Needs to settle down.

Why am I thinking of that now? I have my tools and strategies for working with my brain. Plus, Gara helps. A lot.

My eyes slide to him. Maybe he won't want a partner who needs so much… looking after. It gets tiring after a while. I know even my besties need a break from me.

With those sad thoughts rattling in my head, I pull my aching body into the tent. Inside it’s warm and homey, cheering me up. I shuffle over to the prickly hay and Gara quickly grabs a folded linen from one of the tables and places it underneath me by the time my butt parks itself.

“How can we help?” I ask Ellen, who’s red faced and grinning ear to ear from the work.

She pulls a bale in front of me to make rows as if we’re in a cinema. “I still need to make the pizzas, but… no offence, I don’t want biohazards near them.”

“None taken. Maybe Laura can help once she gets off work.” Although I can’t see Laura’s new nails mixing well with dough. “Give me something that plays to my strengths.”

“Decoration. I need some special celebration bunting.”

“‘I got fucked by an alien’ bunting, got it,” I say, putting my thumb up. The thumb knuckle thing crackles a little. Ew.

“‘Welcome home’ would be fine,” Ellen says, smiling at Ilia, and I realize she means for him.

For all of them.

“Absolutely.” At my request, Gara fetches my paints, and I do my best to ignore the tremble in my hand as I attempt to shape simple letters.

It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. Every stroke feels like a struggle.

I manage to create two garlands before my energy drains away completely.

That’s it—I’m done, exhausted and tapped out.

Shit, this flu is really screwing with me.

“Maybe I should be right at the back, so I don't infect anyone,” I say to Ellen. I don’t want to leave, but exhaustion drags down my limbs and back like shackles.

She gives me a look she probably gives her sick lambs, full of concern. “Of course, sweetie. If you need to, you can go back to bed. I promise we won’t start without you. ”

“No, I want to be here.”

“I know, but if you’re not well, you’re not well.”

Gara takes my hand, turning it over and placing his big warm fingers against my pulse. He’s frowning again, jaw ticking like he's dynamite about to blow. “You may have ambitions to remain here, but perhaps you should curtail activities and return to bed early.”

I raise an eyebrow at Ellen and my friend winks at me, pushing a sweaty strand of hair out of her face as she bustles away. But despite the double entendre, I hunker lower. “I just want to say hi to everyone. That's curtailing ambitions enough, right?”

Gara looks stormy but he doesn't protest further.

Ellen does her thing organizing everyone, getting the triplets to put out a trestle table for the pizzas.

Ilia prepares the wine and beers, placing them to chill in a bucket full of ice, and Arture arranges nibbles in big bowls.

Gara sets up the projector at Ilia’s command, and the triplets hang a white sheet at one end of the tent.

They’re all walking a bit stiffly; Arture straightens up the linens, glowing eye focused like they’ll be measured and judged later, and the trio go stand along one side when they don't have anything to do, staring over my head.

They're nervous.

“Hey, it's going to be fun,” I tell them in my croaky voice. “You can smile a bit, let your hair down.”

Arik rubs his hand on his head. “We don’t have much hair.”

“Should we?” Dom asks me.

“It’s an idiom,” Gara interjects before I can explain. “Arra-bellah speaks in cryptic, pithy phrases.”

“Pithy. Best word ever,” I say, grinning. “What I mean is, you can relax. It’s actually a great idea to have a social event between us. ”

Especially since two of us have entered relationships with aliens. Even with my shit math I can tell a fifty percent uptake rate is pretty neat. When Laura finishes work and Nicole gets here, I wonder if they'll gravitate toward someone?

As if on cue, Laura comes in. She slides her gaze over the triplets, eyes snagging on purple-eyed Dom for like half a second. Interesting.

I wave and Laura saunters over, settling next to me and taking my hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better.” I explode with a sneeze that came out of nowhere. “Fuck. You’re better off steering clear of me, I think.”

She leans away from me. “Did you catch a cold out there?”

“Seems like it.” I raise a finger as another sneeze hovers right in my sinuses, threatening, but it passes. “Okay, okay, I think we’re safe, but my voice is crap.”

“It needs rest.” Gara slides next to me, thrusting a pack of tissues into my hand. Where’d he get those from? Ellen’s medicine cabinet?

“Oh thank heavens.” I grab a handful and noisily blow my nose. “Thanks, you saved my life.”

Ellen clatters in with several jars balanced on a stack of plates.

“I managed to get the dough out of the freezer earlier but I haven’t been able to stop for a second to roll it out, nor had time to shop for toppings.

Nicole is bringing those down and she’ll be here in forty-five minutes or so, she’s finishing up an operation, but I’ve got so much to do before then!

” She dumps her load on a spare table, the glassware rattling.

Laura jumps up. “Here, I’ll help you with that,” I say, at the same time Dom says, “Female, let me assist.”

And oh shit, Laura glares at him like he stepped on the toe of her favorite heels. I slap my hand over my mouth. It was worth coming down just for this show.

Ellen gives them instructions and runs off, and Laura and Dom stand shoulder to shoulder at the table.

Well, shoulder to ribs, maybe, given Dom is huge.

Big, and purple, lilac scales on the top, pink ones near Laura, spreading like a stone thrown in a pond…

or a field of alliums and lavender, waving in the wind. ..

“Arra-bellah?” Gara’s hand swims in front of my face. Green and glinting, like emeralds.

“Huh?” I look up into his face.

“You lost consciousness.”

“I had a power nap,” I mumble.

Ellen dumps lots of blankets by the tent entrance. “Great. Us mammals will be warm enough now.”

“I’ll warm you,” Ilia says staunchly, dismissing the blankets with a wave of his hand. It's cute, and even cuter is Ellen melting a little looking at him.

My view of them gets blocked when Gara looms over me, laying a hand on my forehead. “You’re too hot,” he accuses me.

“I know I am,” I say, flirty despite aching all over. “But, actually, I feel cold,” I admit quietly.

I reach for his hand, but he's already fiddling at his belt and brandishes the scanner over me.

I rush to swat it away. “Hey, whoa now, that's the dinosaur making machine.”

“It’s my diagnostic tool.” Easily holding it up out of my reach, he points it at me and watches the read-out like it’ll tell him his fortune. I don’t need to be a mind-reader, though, to interpret Gara’s stricken face.

“What’s the matter?” I say. Or, at least, I try to say. Even to my ears it’s a treacle-slow, garbled mess, and my vision swims green as Gara rushes to scoop me up.

Oh shit.