Page 41 of Invasive Species (Outcasts of Oloria #2)

TWENTY-NINE

ARABELLA

“Arra-bellah.”

I’m having a lovely dream. Gara is alive and well, swimming next to me in Ellen’s lake, strong arms cutting smoothly through the water. I’m working hard to keep up with him and we’re neck and neck, subtly pushing one another, when he wraps himself around me, surrounding me with warm love.

We drift to the bottom of the lake, the shattered crystal of the water’s surface glittering above us, bathing him in a rainbow of colored light: soft greens, blush reds, pale pinks and vibrant orange. As soon as his lips touch mine, I jolt awake.

I’m not wrapped in his warm arms, I’m half-sunk in the jello bed, and instead of the kaleidoscope of sunlight on the water’s surface, it’s a soothing sweep of colors across the ceiling. And instead of Gara, there’s someone in a full mask standing over me.

I scream and scramble back, or at least try to, but the bed keeps me stuck in it. I heave my ass out of it with a pop, but now my legs and arms are submerged .

The scaled alien reaches down and my panic intensifies. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Shh,” a soothing voice says. “It's me.”

My heart leaps with hope. Gara?

I crush that thought ruthlessly. It’s probably just another clone.

Turning my face away so he won’t see my disappointment, I grumble, “Little help, please?”

“Of course.” He slides his arms underneath my shoulders and my knees, muscles standing proud as he lifts me out of the suction of the bed. My skin warms where he touches me and I curse myself. I can't be responding to the touch of another guy, even if he’s cradling me like I’m fine jewels.

His scales soften where my body lies against his, flashing to a happy neon green that radiates like the sunrise.

No way. I know that shade. It hurts to hope, but I can’t help it.

The mask covering this clone’s face is utterly blank, a breathing tube and smooth metal encasing his features. The mirrored surface reflects back my longing.

It can’t be him. Can it?

“Gara?” I whisper, mouth so dry the word cracks.

The mask nods once, a human gesture, and I throw my arms around him, too stunned to laugh or cry.

“You’re alive?” is the best I can do. “Am I awake?” If I’m not, I never want to wake up from this.

“I’m alive, and you are awake.” He cradles me in a bridal carry like I might be snatched away any second, and the smell convinces me: his warming, freeing scent that helps me breathe deeply. I inhale him, his body fresh and new and yet familiar each time.

He takes me to the balcony. The sun peeps over the horizon, spreading glitter on all the rust red desert, but I shun this alien world. I have eyes only for him .

“Are you going to steal me away? Because I’m totally up for that.” I snuggle into his arms, hands roving all over him to check for injuries.

He presses his head to mine, as if to kiss the top of my head through the mask. “You are still deathly ill, and we need to find a cure. Besides, this isn’t book 6 of Planet of the Pirate Prince,” he teases gently.

The reference breaks something open inside me, and, like a Russian doll, all my feelings come unpacked and spill from one another.

I start to laugh, then I burst into tears, then I just hold him close, sobbing onto his collarbone. I press kisses to his eucalyptus scented skin and breathe him in, lips mapping the tiny joins in his scales. I want to get closer than ever before.

“Gara, I need you so badly.” The connection between us throbs in my chest. I'd thought he was dead, gone forever, and now he's here, alive and well.

And apparently, that makes me horny as hell.

He takes a shuddering breath as if he’s barely holding himself in check too, and I’m quick to say, “It’s okay, I feel better just being near you. Kiss me, please. Hold me. Fuck me, I want it all, now, right here on the balcony.”

I want him like I want water, to drink, to paint with and to swim in; he keeps me alive in all senses of the word.

“I can leave,” another voice says. I pop my head over Gara’s shoulder to see Ezla.

Ah, oops.

Burying my burning cheeks in Gara’s arms, I whisper, “I didn’t realize we had company.”

“Are you regretful for stating your desires?” Gara asks, with an amused tone.

“Not regretful, just… I didn’t know we had company.” I pat my hot cheeks. Hopefully this is the fever and not crushing embarrassment overwhelming me. “You know me, I’ m not shy, but I also don’t, er, perform in front of an audience.”

“Nor would I want you to,” Gara murmurs in my ear. The mask tilts side to side as he studies me in the natural light of the sun, gently setting me on my feet. I feel lightheaded, and he snatches me up again before I even wobble.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I guess all I’m good for is being read to in bed.”

“Which I want to do,” Gara promises, but there's an edge to his voice. A harsh edge, matched by his pace as he slides me back into the nutrient bed.

The throbbing pain radiating from my lower back to my neck that I’ve been ignoring fades immediately as soon as I sink in. Bum. This stuff is helping, but I hate feeling so helpless.

“Ezla, what do the latest test results show?” Gara asks him, voice a rhythm in my head and a melody I want to dance to.

I watch through heavy, drooping eyelids as the two Garas—no, Selthiastocks, I remind myself—bend their heads over a large screen in Ezla’s hands.

The ache of exhaustion rings through my bones, but I force myself to stay awake.

I want to see Gara’s face, to read the thoughts playing across those changeable features.

I need to feel that connection again, the one that makes me feel whole, even in my weakened state.

“Why are you wearing a mask?” My voice is barely a rasp, but it makes them both turn toward me in unison, like magnets pulled in my direction.

Gara’s grip tightens on the screen, his hesitation clear even through the emotionless mask. “Because…” He pauses, his voice strained. “Because we have a theory of what you're reacting to, and it might be… alien in nature.”

I manage a tired smile, trying to lighten the crushing reality. “Well, yeah. I didn’t think it was a garden- variety Earth flu.”

His voice hardens with self-reproach. “No, not just from me, but because of me.” He gestures toward the screen Ezla holds, frustration creeping into his tone. “We’re looking for something from me that matches the pathogen.”

My breath catches. I caught something from him? My mind reels with painful clarity. Fuck, the condom melted.

I try for a weak joke, the words stumbling out. “I guess we weren’t exactly careful when I finally jumped your bones, huh?”

Gara shakes his head, his frustration palpable. “I should’ve known. I should’ve been prepared?—”

“Hey,” I interrupt, my voice still feeble, but insistent. “It takes two to tango.”

Even through the blank mask, it's like I can sense his silent confusion, so I explain. “We both made that choice. It wasn’t just on you. But now you know where it came from, right? You can do something. Fix it.”

Ezla speaks up from behind the screen, his voice calm but grave. “In theory, yes. First, we need to understand exactly what it is and why your body is reacting this way. That will determine how we treat or remove it.”

“And in the meantime…” Gara’s shoulders slump, his exhaustion mirroring my own. “I need to stay away from you. No more… contact.”

The words rip through me with a force I wasn’t prepared for. I thought he was dead. I thought I’d lost him forever, and now he’s back… and I can’t even touch him?

“Gara, I need you near me. Please.”

Gara hesitates as if torn between stepping toward me or running in the opposite direction.

Finally, he sits next to me, and the relief is so overwhelming I could cry.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

His words come soft, filled with regret. “I don't want to deny you anything, Arra-bellah, but I will if it means keeping you safe. You have to understand that.”

“I do,” I murmur, my heart aching as I wish I had the strength to reach for him, to hold his hand. But even that small gesture feels impossible, my limbs too drained.

He might be right and keeping apart is the best thing to do. Cold logic would say that. Except everything inside me is saying I need him, my instincts insisting I need to be near him.

But he's stated a boundary. I need to respect that.

I let my questing hand fall. “Alright. We'll stay apart for now, but when this is all over you owe me double kisses and hugs. Deal?”

“A million times over,” he says, and I know he doesn't exaggerate. He'll probably keep a tally of each one in a spreadsheet too.

His shoulders stay slumped like he's exhausted. He's definitely lost some weight, more ridges and veins visible on his chest and arms, like a map with rivers and roads.

I search his face—or rather, the mask that hides it. “Where were you, Gara? What happened to you?”

His head bows. “I had to run, Arra-bellah. I had no choice.”

He keeps his voice level, but the shame radiating from him is a physical thing, a presence in the air, and it settles uncomfortably in my chest. How do I know what he’s feeling?

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Tell me where you went.”

“The dorm plazas,” he replies quietly. “Below this facility. Near the… Euthanization Center.”

A chill spreads through me, despite the warmth of the nutrient gel cradling my body. The thought of him hiding so close to death, so close to danger, makes my stomach twist. “That must’ve been awful.”

“What was truly awful was not knowing if you were getting better. I brought you here to save you, and the waiting... not knowing... it was maddening. And Old Mae... well, she kept me alive.”

“Wait, you brought the murder bird with you?” My head jerks up. “You didn't eat her, did you?”

He snorts. “As if anything would or indeed could eat that bird. She stole food for me from the garbage chutes.”

I can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Of course she did.”

Ezla’s still focused on the screen, but I notice the way his eyes flick between us. He goes still when Gara argues with me, scales paling, and then stares astonished when I don't react to it. Clearly that's a head-chopping offense here, and yet Gara does talk back to me. Good.

I mouth a silent ‘thank you’ to him, grateful beyond words.

But then Gara’s voice draws me back, his tone shifting. “We need to act fast, Arra-bellah. I'm worried about you.”

“I'll be fine. But what about you?”

He shrugs. “If they find me, they’ll euthanize me. And Ezla, too, for helping us.”

I fight to sit up, the words tumbling from my mouth in a jumbled mess. “No, you have to go. You have to leave, Gara, right now, it's too dangerous.”

Taking my shoulders, he gently presses me back down, making soothing noises. “We're taking every precaution. What's important here is finding what's hurting you and stopping it.”

“What's important is—” Having him hold me. I need him, desperately, but I can't give in to my selfish wants. I thought I'd lost him once; I can't go through that again.

But he wasn't lost. I slide my hand over the center of my chest. Did I really feel what I thought I'd felt?

The mask cocks again. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It's just… right, this is going to sound si lly but… do you remember you mentioned the mating bond? I know you said they don't exist, but…”

I trail off because he goes rigid next to me.

Then, “You… you can feel something?”

“Do you?” I whisper.

His shoulders heave as he breathes. “Yes,” he admits.

And it's like a burst of inspiration, my muse coming to party, my brain aligning in flow. We're in lockstep, synchronized, whatever it's called. On the same wavelength, or painting with the same brushes. I like that one most.

“There. Right there,” I say, grinning.

But Gara staggers back a pace, reeling away from me as if fighting a force.

“The bond,” he chokes out.

“But… if it’s anything like the Planet of the Pirate Prince book 4, well, that’s a good thing, right?”

Gara's tension suggests it's anything but.

“That could be what's killing you. We have to stop it,” he says, the hard edge back in his voice. “Whatever it takes.”