Page 6

Nala

I felt like I was about to burst into flames as I watched Artek leave the greenhouse.

It was hard to explain, but when I’d sat down on the pillow where he wanted me, I’d been struck hard with a wave of desire.

Too bad my host clearly didn’t feel the same way.

That angry growl had been deeply offended, his expression suddenly so aloof, so arrogant.

I bit my lip and hoped he hadn’t caught on to what had been buzzing in my brain. He was an alien—of a species I didn’t know—I had to remember that. Maybe it was the pregnancy that was making me look for a suitable partner in every man I met. Artek, though… he was something else.

His retreat was measured and precise, his movements graceful and sinuous.

That suited him, considering he appeared half-snake, half-man.

I’d never seen someone quite as ethereally beautiful as him, though.

His features were so fine, so perfect, yet masculine at the same time.

Every part of him glittered and glimmered like a pearl or the inside of a seashell.

Shaking my head, I tried to forget about my Shaman healer for a moment and recapture the wonder I’d felt at seeing his greenhouse for the first time.

Amused, I wondered why he’d called it that when all the plants inside had purple leaves or needles.

Except for the flowers that still bloomed left and right.

A taller birch-like tree rose gracefully to my left, for example, its branches laden with silky white flowers with a yellow heart.

Maybe it was because he apparently knew more humans; he’d learned the word from them.

I crossed my legs, leaned back against the low, sun-warmed wall behind me, and studied what I could see.

This was a dome-shaped place, the ceiling rising tall at the center, the walls sloping down in a curve.

It had hexagon-shaped panels that made up its frame, set into silver bars so thin they were almost invisible.

It was warm inside, humid even, but that did not mean it was warm elsewhere; the tunnels had been cool, for example.

A sun could be seen in the sky—violet, hazy—and mountains appeared to cradle this oasis, rising tall on either side.

If I twisted my head, I could not see out the windows behind me; too much foliage rose there, obscuring the view.

I wondered where the Shaman had gone off to. He hadn’t spoken much, maybe he wasn’t used to being social. For such a large place, there sure hadn’t been many people—just that other, unconscious patient, and someone he’d spoken to through his viewscreen. A colleague, from the sound of it.

Damn it, I had so many questions, and I was anxious to ask them all.

Where was he? I felt much better after my shower, stronger, more like myself.

The bump of my growing belly was still small, the same size it had been at the trial.

That meant I’d been put in stasis right away.

I couldn’t remember if stasis was harmful to unborn children or not, probably not, though, right?

Ah, who was I kidding? I couldn’t believe what the UAR said about that anymore than I could believe that their laws were just.

I was beginning to get anxious when the door to the greenhouse opened again—silently—but whoever entered wasn’t nearly as quiet.

I shifted to my knees and carefully peered between two fern fronds, their purple hue hinting at silver.

Zap, the animal companion to my mysterious shaman caretaker, trundled along the path, chortled once when she bit into a juicy, fat leaf, then abruptly raised her snout in the air.

She came my way after that, purposefully jogging with her uneven gait along the path.

Her quills rose along her rump when she saw me, but I did not think she meant it as a threat.

The gleeful noise was too cute for that.

They flattened again the next moment, responding to my murmured greeting.

“Hi, Zap, come to say hello?” She shook her head, the blue on her collar glinting with artificial light.

Then she pounced onto the pillow next to me and rolled over, exposing her round, fluffy belly with its black and white stripes.

It was an invitation, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to reach out and rub her fur.

Her pelt was a little rough around the sides but silky soft on her belly, where pink skin shone through the hairs. She purred like a kitten when I rubbed her, then chortled, a sound that came awfully close to a laugh. Her hind leg was definitely crooked, broken and not set right when it healed.

With my hands in her fur, it was easier to think.

I was hungry, but it was only a mild hunger so far.

If I asked, I didn’t think my strange alien host would deny me food.

Why go through the trouble of waking me from stasis if he didn’t want to feed me?

The questions that had been tumbling rapid-fire through my brain were also solidifying into a more cohesive thing.

By the time the door opened again and my host returned, I was ready.

He came around the corner of the overflowing flowerbed silently and faster than I expected him.

His long tail had propelled him forward, and he reared up high when he saw me, as if startled.

In his hands, he carried a large tray, but from my seated position on the pillows, I couldn’t see what was on it.

I only had eyes for the unyielding sharpness of his blue eyes, anyway.

He had a kind, softer tilt to his mouth, but his sharp cheekbones and the nubbed, scaly texture of his brows made his expression hard to read.

Was he happy to see me, or was he put out having to deal with me and my endless curiosity?

I’d been told more than once by coworkers that I had too many interests and hobbies.

I couldn’t be a closeted zoologist and a plant enthusiast at the same time, according to them.

Well, add strange, serpentine aliens to that list, because I was already utterly fascinated by him—especially the smooth, elegant way he moved and how his abundant gold jewelry never made so much as a tinkle or clang.

“I brought food, Nala,” the Shaman said, lowering himself on his tail until he was closer to me in height.

I was impressed; that was a neat trick. Now, his blue sash brushed the floor, but he did not seem to care that it was collecting a smattering of dust along the edge.

Placing the tray gently in my lap, he slid back, politely coiling himself on a pile of pillows a little further away.

He suddenly reminded me of a cat. The way a feline would twirl around, pat the spot they were in before settling down with a perfunctory look—wrapping themselves neatly in their tail as if it were a fancy coat or an extra fluffy blanket.

Artek had far more tail to curl into, and he didn’t look so much cozy as…

decadent. Like a spoiled prince lounging across from me, reminding me, with his gold and colorful clothing, of a Persian prince and a thousand and one stories.

I didn’t think this man would kill me if I didn’t keep him entertained, though.

My eyes darted down to the tray of food, its smells having hooked themselves into my brain by now: savory, sweet, something herbal that steamed from a cup of lavender-tinted tea.

It was a wide selection of things, but they were also simple—flatbread, smoked meat, a pot with some kind of stew with added grains, slices of cut fruit, and a lush pile of purple berries.

“Thank you,” I said, and picked up the bread, nibbling carefully to test how my stomach would respond.

I never knew. I didn’t have morning sickness—thank God—but some foods definitely didn’t agree with my stomach these days.

“Everything is safe for humans,” Artek drawled, a confident smirk curling his handsome, pearly-white features.

“It is carefully balanced to fulfill your nutritional needs.” Huh.

And here I thought he’d just thrown stuff together on a plate from his food stores.

But clearly, more thought had gone into this than I’d expected.

Come to think of it, the tray looked full, but it wasn’t more than I could eat.

For a while, we were both silent, my focus on eating, on survival, rather than the questions that thrummed in my mind.

Artek watched me—or at least, I thought he did—though whenever I glanced up, he was engrossed with the datapad he cradled in his lap.

He was a master at avoiding eye contact, and I was beginning to feel like it was a game.

Almost. I eyed his wide shoulders as I nibbled on a juicy berry, wondering if he worked out or if his species was naturally this muscular.

At my hip, Zap began nudging her head against my body.

Artek, who’d appeared deeply engrossed in whatever he was reading, raised his head abruptly and gave his animal companion a stern look that made my stomach twist with butterflies.

Why was that look sexy? It made Zap sit back and lift her front paws, quills settling around her in a wide fan.

Oh, I knew that look, she was begging for food.

I had picked up another berry, fully intending to give it to her, but Artek’s low, commanding tone halted my movement.

“Don’t.” That was all he said, just a single word.

Raising my head, I defiantly popped the berry into my own mouth and had the pleasure of seeing his nostrils flare and his throat bob as he swallowed. Struck a nerve? Found a trigger? I wasn’t sure, but I liked the heat that flared in his golden eyes.

“So how did I get here?” I asked once I swallowed. The tray was almost empty, and now I curled my hands around the warm cup of strangely colored tea. “I heard you mention other humans. Where are they? Is this a colony? And who were you talking to? What crashed ship?”

He put his tablet down, giving it a grimace before focusing on me.

“The other humans came with a ship that crashed before yours. They live on Ahoshaga with their Naga mates, at Haven.” He paused, his hand rising elegantly, silver and gold glinting on his fingers and wrist. He pointed behind me, and I turned to gaze at a mountain peak visible through the domed glass roof of the greenhouse.

I assumed that was where the humans he mentioned were living—apparently with their Naga mates.

When I looked back at him, something flickered in his eyes, quick, fleeting.

I had no chance to decipher it, but I knew it was something heavy, something meaningful—something that might explain the tension that hung in the air between us.

I’d never felt anything like it before. Not even that one mistaken night of passion with Athol had created sexual tension like this, and back then, I’d thought my mysterious Terafin visitor was like catnip.

“So that’s where I can go, live safely?” I asked, watching his expression carefully.

He seemed so neutral, so indifferent, when he raised a shoulder and nodded.

That didn’t feel right, not that I could say exactly why.

It was disappointing, maybe. Though that was silly; why would I want this Shaman to desire that I stayed?

He probably thought I was a curiosity, and all this heat I felt simmering, it was one-sided. Mine.

“Yes, if you so wish,” he agreed. “It is a three-day journey to their home. Though soon, the snows will be upon us and make travel much harder.” He flicked his elegant hand in another direction—over his shoulder this time, down the mountain—but the greenhouse plants blocked whatever he was indicating.

“The ship you came on crashed there. Your pod came loose during the crash, closer to my home, and I found you. I do not believe it is safe to go to the crash site.” Unspoken hung the words “for you,” but I knew they were there.

Lifting the now-empty tray from my lap, I set it aside and curled my suddenly cold fingers around the beginning bump of my pregnancy.

No, he’d be right. Whoever had put me on that crashed ship hadn’t done it for a good reason.

But curiosity made me want to see it, to find out why.

Why had they done this? For what purpose?

And why send me—and possibly others—so far across the universe, all the way to another quadrant in space?

“What about the words your friend couldn’t understand? The ones you needed human help with? I’m human, I could help,” and maybe it would answer some of my own questions.

Artek’s expression grew tight, and I wondered if I’d displeased him.

He did not say anything, just rose on his tail, sliding closer until he was right next to me.

“Very well,” he sighed as he began to settle, lowering himself onto his coils, not touching me, but closer than he’d been in a while.

It was then I noticed that those glowing slashes from before were gone.

They’d vanished without a trace, though his glimmering, pale opalescent scales were still beautiful.