Taken to Nobu: A SciFi Alien Romance (Xiveri Mates Book II)
Page 14
“Is she ill?” Okkari asks.
His deep voice makes me shiver. Makes me fucking melt. “No,” I say at the same time Kuana says, “Nox.”
“Just went down the wrong pipe.”
“Pipe,” Okkari replies, a treble of concern on his tongue — his ridged tongue. He steps into the place I’ve called a home and the room that seemed so huge before shrinks rapidly around him. The doors zip shut at his back and everything becomes quiet. “There are no pipes in Nobu’s dwellings. The temperatures do not allow for them. We use a system of aquifers built of screa and re’ien farrn.”
“That’s obviously not what I meant. It’s just an expression.” A gust of laughter puffs out of me and Okkari lights up again. Even his eyes widen. The muscles in his neck stand out like live wires.
I quiet, lick my lips and wait for him to say something. But he just stares unflinchingly at my face and my embarrassment swells. I’m laughing in front of them and with no provocation. I’m laughing like I used to…
I look away, then back and when I do, I blurt out, “Did you need something?”
The vulnerable shock he wore vanishes as his emotions shutter. I’m almost sorry to see them go. “Hexa. I came to see if you had interest in joining me for a date.” He says the word in our human brogue and the shock of it feels like a palm to the cheek — the ass cheek. I shiver.
“A date? Like a date date?”
“I fail to distinguish a date from a date date, however the intercultural guide to human and Voraxian interactions produced by Svera and her team of experts detail the act of this date in great depth. It is an act of courtship, usually initiated by the male. I am here to initiate such a courtship and ask you to participate in this date ritual with me.”
I feel air whistling into my open mouth past my teeth. Slack-jawed idiot. “I um…you want to go on a date now? Isn’t the icefall coming down?”
“Hexa, but it is thin enough to walk through and we will be taking our date in the screa caves that line the mountain.”
“Oh. I…” I want to say no. I really want to say no. In truth it’s not got anything to do with hate either — the hate I carry for myself or the plaguing hatred I have for the memory of Bo’Raku and everything and anything that reminds me of him. I want to say no because he intimidates the shit out of me.
I open my mouth but a memory pinches my lips shut. I’ll try. That’s what I told him. Rejecting his first attempt to woo me as he put it, isn’t trying. I lick my lips and pull my heavy braid over my shoulder. He inhales a little bit deeper — I can see it in the way the pelts strapped across his chest in intricate ties and buckles stretch over his pectorals. My gaze drops. Is he hard again? Oh stars…
Struggling to get my mind out of the gutter, I sputter, “What should I wear?”
Okkari exhales just a little and he glances to Kuana. I wonder if he’s as grateful as I am not to be looking at me anymore. “Provide the status of her okami, Kuana.”
Kuana scuttles to a supply pile not dismantled quite yet and pulls out a carefully wrapped package from among the rest. “Her okami is ready, Okkari. Gi handstitched it herself over the previous solar.”
“Xhivey.” He turns to me. “Kuana will provide adequate clothing for you and you will inform her if it requires any adjustments.”
“Oh…kay.”
“Xhivey. I will leave you now to change, then you will meet me just outside of this home.”
“Wait — the date starts now? Right now?”
He meets my gaze and I brace myself against its impact, more startling than any icefall and made more startling by the fact that, without colors rising in his ridged forehead, I have no idea what he’s thinking. Is he happy? Sad? In any way pleased by this?
“Hexa. The date begins now.” He makes it sound so ominous that, when he leaves, I find myself standing up slowly. I’m full of regret. Why did I tell him I’d try? I should have told the condescending brute to fuck off.
“Don’t worry, my Xhea, I’m sure the Okkari has prepared something to your liking.”
I grunt noncommittally as she helps me out of the lightweight, fur-lined tunic and trousers I’d been wearing and into something much, much stranger.
“What is this?” I ask as she pushes identical cuffs onto each of my arms. The first two cover me from shoulder to elbow, the next two from elbow to wrist. She attaches another strip of fur over my back, and a form-fitting, fur-lined breastplate to my front. Equally strange pieces fasten over my legs and hips and ass and the whole strange contraption is finally tied together with an elaborate series of buckles, similar to the ones worn by Okkari.
“This is your okami,” she says as she works. She has a little smile on her face.
My eyes narrow. “You know where he’s taking me, don’t you?”
“Nox. I have not been informed about this date,” she says, mispronouncing it just as badly as the Okkari did.
I tut. “Dates are weird. I never liked going on them on the human colony. Dresses and little useless presents and all that. Sharing a meal together and making awkward conversation. The boys on the colony used to try with me, but I never enjoyed it, so the Okkari shouldn’t get his hopes up. You shouldn’t either,” I pout petulantly, threats as grand as they are empty.
“Nox. I have not been told anything of your date, but I do know what an okami is and there is only one use for it and if I am correct, then I do believe you will find this date to your liking.”
“What is an okami?” I ask when she doesn’t say more. “Hmm?”
“I…do not wish to interfere with the Okkari’s plans.” She chooses her words very carefully as she speaks and I know her sense of honor is strong, something to be abused — but only if I were capable of it. I’m suddenly acutely aware that I could do Kuana no harm.
“I could order you to tell me, couldn’t I?”
She nods. “Certainly. You would not need to order. If you would truly like to know, I can tell you…but I would prefer to allow the Okkari such an honor, since it is his date that he has planned to honor you.”
I huff audibly — theatrically. “Fine. Is this enough?” I ask when she steps back to observe her work.
“The okami allows for maximum flexibility in these low temperatures, but to arrive at the caves, you will perhaps need an additional fur.” She releases hers and tosses it around me, tying it securely in place with a knot at the center of my chest, somewhere in the space over my madly thumping heart.
Something about the act touches me on a deep, fundamental level as I watch her green features scrunch up in concentration. She’s giving me her clothes so that I’ll be warm. I look away just as she finishes and step up to the door, pulling a pair of thin, untanned leather gloves onto my hands.
Just before I leave, I mutter, “Thank you, Kuana.”
I don’t look back. I don’t need to look back to know her forehead is orange again. Pride. She deserves every ounce of it. “You’re welcome, Xhea.”
And as I brace for the cold world outside of the doorway, it occurs to me that I forgot to correct her when she called me Xhea…
The Okkari tilts his head while a fierce wind whips between us. Flurries of cold white scar my cheeks with heat while a fresh heat scars my insides. I swallow hard, pulling Kuana’s fur up higher around my face and head. Okkari has no such cover, so the cold white just sticks to his dark hair, which spins around him, threads in the wind, begging to be touched. To be pulled.
“It is only a few dozen paces from here to the cave. You will tell me if the okami prepared for you is adequate.”
“It is,” I say automatically, though I won’t know until we start walking and the cold sinks in — that is, if the cold manages to permeate my wildly climbing body temperature.
“Xhivey. Then we go now. You will follow me and stay close.”
His ridges change color ever so slightly, becoming a sickly green. Is he remembering what happened last time I was out on my own in the cold white? Why wouldn’t he
be? Nothing has changed between us. I have given him no reasons to trust me. But I can try.
Without breaking his gaze, I take in air. A lot of it. I let the cold fill my lungs, let its white flakes swirl through me. I don’t break his gaze. “I’m with you,” I say, firmly and evenly, hoping that he knows these words for what they are: true.
His ridges radiate color again, just a splash colored orange. “Xhivey.” I smile at his back as he turns away.
Down the path from his house and around the rim of the valley, I realize that there are actual doorways leading directly into the stone. Sitting up a few steep steps, most are marked by crude stone awnings that keep the cold from totally claiming the space. A few of them open when we pass by and males and females bow to us from the entrances. One male is holding what looks like a pot, one female an ion tong.
In another open doorway a very old male stands slightly hunched and a child hides behind his legs. I only get the quickest glimpse of the small being, so quick I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl. Still, when we step past, I realize I’ve got one hand in the air. I’m waving.
At the place where the valley wall begins to curve in towards its center, there’s another entrance. Low, but broad, I can already see that lights glow along all the walls of the huge space, swirling and pulsing like currents in a river. And I can hear the sounds echoing within, even through the cold white. They are fighting sounds.
“Is this…” I’m totally shocked. I don’t know what to say.
The cavern is immense, easily large enough to dock a dozen intra-quadrant transporters. Passing underneath the awning and fully entering the massive space, the Okkari stands to the side. I can sense he’s judging my reaction and he must be pleased with what he sees because he’s smiling ever so slightly.
I turn to face him. “This is our date?”
“Though I am not overly familiar with humans or your customs, the examples given of date outlined in the manual were…insufficient, in my novice opinion. The manual spoke of evening soirées filled with meals and childish games. I thought that perhaps this may be more suitable for a female of your calibre.”
“I…” I glance around, raking it all in. There are fifty warriors in here, maybe more, organized into five different groups. The closest group is headed by a male shouting orders while the rest of the fighters assume different formations.
Two groups slightly further away are made up of pairs squaring off against one another and fighting in choreographed movements. In the next group, pairs fight in free form while the last group closest to the cave’s curved heart has formed a few small clusters. In each, a single fighter faces off against multiple opponents.
And the weapons. By comets, the weaponry. The armory lines one whole wall, though it looks like most fighters are using swords, from where I’m standing. A couple use spears that I find familiar, while a few in the farthest groups use weapons I’ve never even imagined — things that look like chains with large, spikey balls on either end; knives with multiple blade ends that whip and whirl around the one who wields them; large nets that, as I watch, are used to bring the largest fighters to the ground.
If I felt intimidated before, I don’t know what I feel now. On the colony, all we have are crude spears made of wood and sometimes, if you’re lucky, metal. Nothing like this. Nothing that’s mounted to rock walls, gleaming black and white and chrome in stacks that span beyond my eyes’ peripheries. Something must be powering at least a few of the weapons, because from where I stand I can feel their electric charge splitting the air, making it sing.
“Kiki,” Okkari says in a low voice.
I start. “What did you say?”
“I said that I hope that this alternative for a date pleases you.” He’s asking a question again without asking.
It annoys me that he doesn’t, but I also find it a little funny. Cocky. And cocky is something I find familiar. I feel the tension in my mouth relax just a little as I answer, “Hexa. It does. It’s really cool, I mean. A good idea. Am I going to get a tour or just watch the training or…”
“Nox. It was my intention to have you train with me.”
“You brought me on a date to fight me?” I say and when he doesn’t answer, I laugh. It bursts out of me a little wobbly, a little tortured, but it unsheathes itself all the same. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. I laugh so hard I see several fighting warriors turn. Ridges fire with color, but none so bright as the Okkari’s. His face is bejeweled again.
I clap my hand over my mouth, sure that at least one of those colors is mortification. I’m laughing like a fucking lunatic. Not in a pretty way. And that’s what all men want, isn’t it? A woman who’s pretty? Men who want pretty women don’t ask them on dates to fight them.
His colors die, but there’s a downturn to his mouth that wasn’t there before. “If this is unacceptable, then…”
“No. No. I mean nox. It isn’t,” I cut in, feeling renewed flames alight inside my belly, more powerful than the cold that drifts into this cavernous space. “I love it. I mean, it pleases me greatly. This is a great idea. I’d love to fight you…I guess.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep a straight face. In all my many dates of little colony boys, not one of them thought to do something like this. And he’s an alien. And that fact is starting to distract me less and less.
“Xhivey.” He exhales gruffly, turning to face the wall of weapons. “Then you will select your weapon, unless you would like to fight me barehanded as you did during the Mountain Run.”
There’s something seductive and teasing about what he says and the way he says it and I feel myself flush. Memories revisit me in living color. His body on top of mine, pumping, pushing. My thighs clenched around his hips, holding, pulling.
“A weapon would be most appreciated,” I say, but my voice breaks.
He smiles very softly. “Very well.” He takes me to the wall mounted with poles and pikes and metal swords with multiple blade ends, large squares with strange handholds, huge flails that look like it’d take seven hands just to wield one of them, huge discs that brim with electricity and look something like shields, and throwers and launchers and axes and hammers and thin little arrows that are covered in thorns that glow in the dark.
Walking the full length of the wall takes forever. Or maybe it only feels that way because we’re walking side-by-side. I can feel the brush of his outer arm against the fur I’m wearing every fifth step. It’s so consistent, I start to look forward to it. I shouldn’t. But fuck it. I walk a little closer to him and wonder if he notices. There’s no subtle rumbling, no comment, no colors from him. Does he like it? Does he hate it? What is he thinking?
It takes me a moment to realize we’ve walked the full length of the wall and have arrived at the very last weapon — some sort of curved bow with a blade on either end and no string connecting them. It dangles on its own hook.
“We call this a dagger bow, though it is neither. A hybrid sword-staff, it is very effective for hunting large game, particularly those that roam in packs, or when up against more than one opponent.”
“Impressive.” I pull my hand back and clear my throat, trying to sound confident. “You have an impressive selection here in general.”
“I feel it is important that my xub’Okkari learn to train with every weapon they may use in battle, or when hunting — as well as defend against them. Here are samples of every type of weapon found on Voraxia.”
As we turn back, my fingers reach out and stroke the length of a curved object, shaped like a bowl with one serrated edge. I can’t even figure out how you’d hold it.
“These are just the training weapons?” I say quietly.
“Hexa.”
“Oh.”
“I see this troubles you. You should know that this selection, of course, does not include firing weapons. These are only for hand-to-hand combat.”
“No, that’s not…wait. These are just non-firing sample weapons? You have more?”
Frustration mounts. A slight tickling of that anger that knows me. “No. I’m sure you have something I can use,” I snap.
I force myself to move forward, blocking out the feeling of him lining my side, mismatching my steps so we don’t touch anymore. I scan the weapons, the discomfiting feeling inside spreading until it blots out everything else. That’s called anxiety. That’s called stress. Nothing is recognizable to me at all.
“Don’t you have any spears?”
“Of course.”
Okkari stops, turns around and places his hand on a staff that I missed. Instead of handing it to me, he pulls and the staff comes free, opening a drawer with it. Inside, there are a dozen more staffs, each in a different style. Some have curved ends, others serrated, some that look charged with something, others white and slippery. Nothing that resembles the simple wood I trained with, or the grabar Miari made for me that I used to fight off the khrui.
“I just…all of these…there are so many,” I mutter quietly to myself.
We have so little. And they have so much. What was I thinking ever? That I could fight off a warrior who’s been training with these weapons his entire life? With every weapon in Voraxia? What would I do with my tiny fucking spear? A spear so small by comparison he could probably pick his teeth with it. I thought this would be fun. Get a chance to exercise a skill I’ve been working on for so long with Jaxal. Get a chance to make him proud. Make myself proud. Make him proud. And here I am, inundated and overwhelmed and shamed.
I’m a heartbeat away from calling this whole date business off and going back to my little den with Kuana when Okkari says, “May I make a suggestion?”