by Dixon, Ruby
It all reminds me that I’m currently in the midst of unrequited resonance myself. That everyone looks at me and wonders why I won’t just say “oh shucks” and throw my legs open for M’tok. They haven’t known him like I do, though. They don’t know what a huge asshole he is, or the terrible things he’s said about me. Or that he thinks I’m hideous and “squat” in his own words and to me, there’s just something so freaking awful about knowing. A guy finds you repulsive and wants to hook up with you anyhow. It smacks of those frat boy dares where they find the ugliest girl on campus and try to hook up with them—dog parties. That’s it. Just the thought wounds me to my core.
I don’t want to be just an inconveniently ugly sack of flesh around a convenient womb. I want to be loved for who I am and what I am.
And I hate M’tok and he hates me, so we’re at an impasse until I get my courage up to either get the deed done (which makes me want to puke) or to go to Veronica and have her shut everything down (which terrifies me).
This party sure isn’t helping matters.
I sit by the fire and smile half-heartedly, listening to conversations around me. I pretend like I’m having a good time, but it just gets harder and harder with every moment that passes. I can’t fake that I’m thrilled—I feel like everyone’s staring at me.
There’s Callie, that bitch that won’t sleep with M’tok.
There’s our resident hold out.
She’s being so unreasonable.
I’m sure it all seems hella unreasonable until it’s your vagina on the line. Then putting the brakes on isn’t so weird, I bet. So Flor and Bridget and the others can whisper about me if they want, but I’m not going to fuck some bossy alien just because he thinks I should.
Just thinking about M’tok makes my temper rise. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Five things that I’m grateful for, I remind myself. Five things.
I’m grateful Gail broke out the hraku seeds—which taste a bit like burnt caramel—and gave us each a handful. That’s one. I’m grateful for the big killer bird dying and no one getting hurt. That’s two. I’m grateful for—
My cootie starts vibrating in my chest.
Startled, I open my eyes and when I look across the fire, the first thing I see is M’tok’s hard face.
He’s staring right at me.
Fuck.
Self-conscious, I grab the neck of my tunic and hunch my shoulders slightly, hoping no one else can hear the insistent hum in my chest. He knows it’s there, though. His has to be humming, too. I look over at him and he’s still gazing at me with that intense look, his long, slightly tilted eyes making his face seem even harder and more forbidding. He’s all harsh angles, that one, without a hint of softness to his face. If it was anyone other than him, I might find all that sharpness alluring, but it’s attached to a big jerk so I hate it.
He watches me, and then lifts a cup of tea to his mouth, drinking.
I brace myself, waiting for him to get up and turn this into the Callie and M’tok Fight Night, as so many nights by the fireside seem to end that way, but he just watches me and drinks his tea. Okay then. I relax a little and try to pay attention to the story that one of the Shadow Cat clan is telling. Something about the first time his people ran into Old Grandfather. Over by a distant fire, Sam stirs the evening stew, and at this fire, Raven and S’bren scoop tea from the hot pouch over the flames and hand out cups.
S’bren pushes one into my hands. “For you.”
“Oh.” I hesitate. I’m not really that thirsty, but it’ll give me something to do with my hands. I smile absently at him. “Thanks.”
He grunts.
I swirl the tea, still not used to all the herbs and leaves that float in every cup. I take a cautious sip and am pleasantly surprised. “It’s sweet. Nice.”
At my side, Lauren frowns into her cup. “It is? Mine tastes like mulched grass.”
“Mine’s sweet,” Penny says on the other side of her.
“Huh.” Lauren shrugs. “Must be pregnancy hormones affecting everything.” She makes a face but drinks anyhow.
I chug my tea down—which is definitely sweeter than normal—and look for a way to escape the close packed group. My khui’s getting louder with M’tok’s stares, and I just want to get out of here. Even so, I can’t leave without someone noticing or commenting, and I’ve had plenty of those over the last few weeks. I’ve learned that it’s best to slip away when there’s a distraction and then no one asks difficult questions. So I glance around the group, relieved when Raven picks up the crude tambourine she’s made and jumps to her feet.
“Is it ok if I do a little music?” she asks shyly, clutching the tambourine to her chest.
Flor puts her hands to her mouth. “Go for it,” she yells, and a few other people cheer.
Raven smiles, then gives her tambourine a shake. It doesn’t sound quite like the ones at home, as it’s made with stretched leather on a carved bone frame, but the bits of seashell make a musical rattling sound like they’re supposed to, and she starts a slow, steady beat. It takes me a moment to recognize the strange, lilting song she starts—it’s a weird, coffeehouse version of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club.” I smother a laugh that quickly turns into a yawn.
Across the fire, M’tok continues to watch me. Ugh. I let my gaze skid away from him as I fight back another yawn and see Marisol. She’s seated next to T’chai, but I notice that her arms are tight over her chest, and when his leg brushes against hers, she discreetly moves away. I remember what she told me—that she doesn’t even like being touched right now.
Poor Mari. I press my hand over my vibrating chest, wishing I could give her my damn khui. Another yawn threatens, and I realize how tired I am. I glance around the group, but everyone’s watching Raven as she moves around the fire, swaying like a belly dancer as she sings goofy rap songs to her tambourine beat. Good. I get to my feet, mumble something about using the bathroom, and make my escape.
Or try to. I’m stumbling as I head away, and my head throbs. My limbs feel heavy and weak, and I rub my chest again. Fucking cootie. If it feels this bad now, I don’t know what I’m going to do in the future. I’m so tired I could lie down in the sand and take a nap, but I know that most of my nights are sleepless now.
I hate resonance. I hate it so much.
By the time I manage to stagger my way into the women’s cave, I feel weird. Detached and floaty. I collapse onto my blankets, wondering if something’s wrong with me. Maybe it’s just sleep deprivation. I don’t bother crawling under the furs, just flop onto my back and close my eyes.
A hand touches my hair, stroking it back from my face. It feels good, too. I snuggle up against the strong fingers, practically preening into the hand that caresses my brow and hair.
“Are you tired, C’lie?” M’tok’s voice penetrates the thick blanket of fuzz in my brain.
I open my eyes and his face doubles and then slowly comes into focus. Everything feels fuzzy and loose, and his eyes are so, so blue in his face. I try to speak, but my mouth feels heavy.
Really heavy.
Something’s wrong. I whimper, frightened.
He strokes my hair again and it feels so good that I’m distracted away from my panic. “Do not panic, my mate. I will take care of you.”
Something about that statement feels wrong, too. I manage to speak, mustering my strength even as blackness swarms around me. “You…drug…me?”
“I did.”
No denial. I’m not surprised. M’tok is an unrepentant asshole if there ever was one. I open my mouth to tell him that he sucks and he’s the worst, but it comes out as a snort-snore and I slip into a dreamless, heavy sleep.
8
M'TOK
I brush my fingers over C'lie's face, watching as she sleeps. She is clever, my female. It did not take her long to figure out my plan. She will be mad when she wakes up, I know, but for now, I gaze down at her peaceful, sleeping face.
How did I ever find such a creature strange and ugly? She is the m
ost beautiful thing I have ever seen. I stroke her mane again, wishing that I did not have to go to such lengths to make her mine. I want nothing more than to get under the furs with her and hold her close, to listen to the songs of our khuis as they twine together. To touch her and feel her touch me back. Instead, I must give her tea to make her sleep and carry her out of the camp when no one is looking.
She is lucky I have decided to be patient.
I wrap the fur around her as she sleeps, then haul her unconscious form into my arms. She is light compared to some of the dvisti I have carried back to camp, so she is easy enough to transport. The real trick will be to leave without anyone else noticing our absence. I camouflage, letting my skin turn the same dark shade as the shadows, and slip out of the cave with my bundle tucked against my chest. Across the beach, a human female sings and shakes a noisy instrument, and U'dron bangs on a drum and gazes at her as if he is hoping for a resonance of his own. The people around them are paying attention to the song, their voices lifted to sing along, and so my footsteps are unheard as I pick my way carefully around the cliff walls. I stick to the shadows. There is no moonlight this night, which makes things easier.
In fact, it is almost too easy.
By the time I leave the camp and make my way to the trail that curls up the steep cliff walls and lead into the snowy hills, I am a bit disgusted at how easy it was to steal my mate from the others. Part of me is glad, of course, that they are so trusting. But I do not like that it is so simple to steal C'lie. Anyone could have done so. Anyone could have snatched her out of my grip.
When I return with my resonance mate, I will chide them for not protecting the females more closely. But…only after I return.
I make it up the cliffs, and when I get to the top, I see S'bren, his horns and the furs wrapped around him the only thing visible. Everything else is camouflaged and lost into the night. I move toward his side and he turns tin my direction, his eyes bright.
"Did you get her?" I ask. "Your female?"
"I did." He shifts the bundle in his arms and gazes down at P'nee with such a covetous expression that it is a wonder I did not see his obsession earlier. This is how distracted I have been from my own resonance, I realize. I did not realize my brother longed for the human female so much. "She did not even make it to the cave before she started snoring. I pretended I was helping her back to her furs to sleep and brought her here instead."
I grunt. "We should separate so to confuse them on our trail. Two sets of tracks will take them longer than just one…hopefully."
As if the spirits of our ancestors have decided to favor us, a fat snowflake falls on my arm. Then another. I look up at the overcast skies and sure enough, snow is falling.
"If they can follow our trail at all," S'bren says, pleased.
He is right. With fresh snow to cover our tracks, that will make it that much harder for them to find us, and I do not plan on staying anywhere they can find my mate and take her from me. A hunter cave for one night only, and then we move on to somewhere new. Somewhere different. Somewhere they will not know where to look.
S'bren hesitates, watching me. "Are we sure this is the right path to take, brother?"
I know what he asks. The rest of the tribe will be furious at us that we have stolen the females. No one would argue that C'lie is mine—except perhaps C'lie. Resonance or not, they would not like that I have stolen her. They let humans do as they please, which is utter foolishness. But S'bren has not resonated to P'nee at all. If we are found before resonance has been completed, we might be exiled. "Do you want to turn around?" I ask him. "I will support you in whatever you do."
"No," S'bren says immediately. "P'nee is mine. My khui will realize this soon."
I nod at him, adjusting my mate in my arms. She still sleeps, drool cold and wet on the front of my tunic. "Then I will see you again when resonance has claimed you," I say, and hold my hand out.
My brother grips my forearm, nods at me. "Until then, my brother."
I squeeze his forearm tightly, a strange wave of homesickness falling over me as I do. Ever since the Great Smoking Mountain died the first time and our clan was left in shambles, S'bren and I have been inseparable. We have not been parted for more than an afternoon. He has been my constant companion and I, his. The only reason I have not gone mad through all of this is the presence of my brother. I am truly lucky to have him.
And now I might not see him again for a full turn of the moon. Maybe longer. I squeeze his arm again and nod at him, fighting the knot in my throat. "Soon, my brother."
"Soon," he says, and then he releases my arm and we part ways, disappearing into the cold, bitter night with our stolen females.
* * *
It is a strange thing to run through the snowy night with my resonance mate clutched to my chest. My khui hums and sings a loud, irritated song that I am not tossing her onto the ground and mating with her, but I do not want to claim a body. I want C'lie to look at me when I am inside her. I want her to touch me. If all I want is release, I have my hand. I need more.
I want a mate…even if I must steal her.
So I pick up my pace, because my khui is so loud that I am certain anyone that comes near—if they come near—will hear my resonance song. I stop at the spot I buried my pack, sling it over my shoulder, and continue on. The storm picks up, sending a thick blanket of snow to the ground, and I am glad. It makes my travel more difficult, but it also means my footsteps will be obscured.
That buys me time. I need time to win my mate and to bring her someplace safe, someplace quiet where we can get to know each other without outside distractions. I need to have a conversation with her that does not include the ability for her to walk away from me and ignore me as if I do not exist.
I am tired of that being her favorite response to when I ask her a question. Now, she will have to talk to me. There will simply be no one else to talk to.
It is breath-stealingly cold and my feet are chilled, my boots wet with melted frost by the time I find the hunter cave I have chosen for our first day in the wild.
It is cold inside the cave, the wind and snow picking up outside. I set C'lie down carefully on the bed of furs and then tuck them around her, unrolling extras to ensure that she stays warm. Humans are fragile, I know. The cold in this strange new land is unusual to me but not biting. To C'lie's more delicate people, it can be deadly. I make sure she is warm and comfortable, touch her cheek again, and then set about to making the cave comfortable. I quickly find the fire-making supplies and build one, then reinforce the screen that acts as a door flap, tucking additional skins around the base so it does not flood the already-cold cave with more frigid air. Once I am satisfied with that, I put on tea and cut a bit of root and roast them in the coals, then take a moment to truly look at my surroundings.
* * *
The cave is a mess. Whoever was here last was disorganized, and I imagine laughing T'shen or H'ssen of the sa-khui tribe. They seem like the type that would think this sort of disaster is perfectly acceptable. To me, it is shoddy work, and I will not leave this place as the same mess that I found it. I cannot. It will itch under my skin as badly as resonance if I ignore the mess around me.
So I get to work, straightening baskets, and when I realize they are haphazardly filled with different kinds of roots without any particular kind of system, I grit my teeth, empty the contents, and start over. An orderly home shows pride in one's work. It makes no sense to collect seven different types of roots and toss them all together. I neatly arrange the dried roots, and then establish a storage system for the rest of the containers, putting the least used items to the back and the items quicker to be consumed at the front, in easy-to-access containers. The tea boils over, and I remove the tripod from the fire and let it cool, turning to look at my mate. Her dark mane spills over the furs, and her face seems…flushed? I move to her side and brush my fingertips over her brow. She is sweating but otherwise seems fine.
At my touch, a low
moan rises from her throat. She shifts in the furs, then opens her eyes and looks right at me.
Her pupils are enormous, making her eyes seem darker. A side-effect of the visshek, I think. I touch her cheek again, and when she does not slap my hand away, I decide she is indeed still drowsy from the tea.
"M'tok?" C'lie mumbles. "I feel weird." Her hand presses to her brow and she moans low again.
"I know." I touch her cheek again, unable to help myself. I want so badly to caress her, to learn her body, but I force myself to pull back. My khui throbs an angry song in protest, but I ignore it, just as I have for a full turn of the moon. "I have made tea. Drink some and you will feel better."
"Okay."
I help her sit up and carefully adjust the furs around her again to ensure that she is warm. As she rubs her brow, I pour a cup of hot tea for her, then move to her side, holding it so she can drink. She takes a few sips, not pushing me away, and then leans heavily on my shoulder.
"Everything's spinning," C'lie whispers. "I feel awful."
I brush her hair back from her face. "I did not know the visshek would be so strong in humans. Rest. Drink your tea. I will take care of you." I watch her closely as she takes a few more sips, then offer her a roasted chunk of the root they call nahtp'tato. I have watched her carefully ever since we resonated and know this is a particular favorite of hers. "Eat."
C'lie leans against my shoulder, her eyes closed, but she eats. I stroke her brow as she does, hating that she feels poorly. I wanted her to come with me quietly, but I do not like how sickly she feels. I am helpless to make it better, and that gnaws at me worse than a disorganized cave. This is my mate, and I am entrusted to take care of her…and look at how I have done so. I hate this.
"What can I get you?" I ask when she finishes her meal.
"Hot," she murmurs, limply tugging at her tunic. "Help me undress. I want to lie down again."
I do as she asks, averting my gaze as I undo the laces on her tunic and help her ease it over her head.