Venan: A Paranormal Sci-Fi Alien Romance: Albaterra Mates Book 7 (The End)

by Ashley L. Hunt

  Evidently, neither did Sevani. He stood the closest to Balor, just a couple of feet away from the dragon’s shoulder and well within arm’s reach. Rather than gazing at the morphed being like the rest of us, he was watching the Council’s reaction.

  “As you can see, the Novai are shifters,” he said. He sounded professorial, but there was a twinge of displeasure hidden beneath the notes. “It seems they had the ability to transform into this reptilian creature when they populated their original home planet, but they lost the ability when their extended time in space altered their genetics.”

  “How fascinating,” Vi’den murmured. He took a step nearer to Balor, whose stare shifted to him and held a hand out carefully toward one of the scaled hands. “May I?”

  Balor emitted a single snort. It was not a word, but it seemed to be an appropriation of such, and Vi’den assumed that he had been granted permission. He eased closer yet and rested his fingertips atop the dragon’s hand, stroking lightly.

  “How fascinating,” he repeated softly.

  The warrior within me wanted to cry out and demand that Vi’den step back, to insist we did not know what this beast was capable of and therefore should maintain our distance until we learned more. I had not lost the protectiveness I had possessed during my years in service to Elder Kharid, and it was still very much in my nature to protect the Elders despite my now being one. I did not trust Balor to remain still and refrain from harming Vi’den, and, of all the Council members to potentially be injured or worse, Vi’den was the last I would wish to witness.

  “Can you feel my touch?” Vi’den asked, glancing up. It was odd to see Vi’den needing to turn his face upwards to address anyone as he was remarkably tall himself, but the dragon hovered nearly three feet over his head.

  Again, Balor snorted. Vi’den then turned his attention to Sevani. “Are they unable to speak in this form?” he questioned.

  “In my estimation, yes,” Sevani replied. He cast a rather cold look toward Balor. “Though, I have not discounted the possibility that they are merely pretending.”

  I knew absolutely nothing about the Novai in this form, but I disagreed wholeheartedly with Sevani’s theory. What would they have to gain by pretending they were unable to speak as these beasts when they were perfectly capable and willing to speak in their normal states? It also occurred to me, however, that Balor’s obvious ability to understand speech would logically lead one to conclude he could exercise the capability as well.

  “Have you asked?” Vi’den pushed, voicing the very inquiry that next arose in my mind.

  “Of course,” Sevani snapped a bit irritably. “If they do not wish us to know their abilities as these creatures, however, they may have adopted a measure of dishonesty.”

  A low, throaty growl emanated from Balor despite his mouth being closed, and I saw his eyelids sink in narrowed disapproval for Sevani’s insinuation. I imagined that, if he could indeed talk, he would have done so then in a fit of upset toward the Pentaban Elder.

  “This is quite the anomaly,” Vi’den said, once again returning to his awed murmur as he withdrew his hand from Balor’s. “I had always been of the opinion shifters were merely a myth of the ages. I am pleased to learn otherwise; it is a lesson in keeping one’s mind open to the myriad of possibilities the Grand Circle bestows upon us.”

  Sevani tossed his head with a scoff of disagreement. “Or perhaps it is a lesson in keeping one’s doors closed to outsiders until discovering all there is to discover about them and making a fully-informed decision.”

  The other Novai standing nearby were glaring daggers at Sevani, and I started to wonder if I was about to witness a massive transformation amongst them all. Balor had said anger was his trigger, or the only one of which he knew, and his comrades behind him wore expressions that in no uncertain terms told me they were angry with Sevani’s attitude toward them.

  “You are operating under the assumption they were aware of their condition,” I said the words before I could stop myself, and it was not until all eyes turned to me that I realized it was I who had spoken.

  “I do not understand,” Sevani retorted icily. “Are you suggesting they did not know they had such a powerful ability?”

  “I am suggesting exactly that, yes,” I shot back.

  When the Novai were suffering from the sun-sickness, I had captained the ship from Albaterra to the Novai vessel just outside our orbit. I had been the only Elder to step onboard the mother ship and engage with the space-bound Novai. And I was the only A’li-uud present with first-hand knowledge of the Novain captain’s genuine awe upon learning the sun-sickness truly existed, as he and the rest of his present-day race had assumed it was simply a story of old from the first days of planet-hopping after they lost their home. I did not believe for a second the captain or any of the Novai before me had an inkling they were shifters, and I would have stabbed a guess they had only heard of such a thing being part of their heritage in stories of lore.

  “Would you stake the safety of your people on it?” Sevani challenged, raising a silvery brow. With a tilt of his head, he added, “On second thought, dismiss that question. Your record speaks for itself.”

  The jab about my ordeal with Elder Kharid infuriated me, and I felt hot rage spiral up my esophagus and fill my mouth with acidic ire. Had there not been a hulking behemoth of an alien a foot from him, I would have launched myself at Sevani and beaten him to the ground with my bare fists. He had been one of the few determined to have me locked away for the remainder of my life when I was charged with Elder Kharid’s murder, and his continued disdain for me and my character was a bloated reminder that the Dhal’atian citizens were not the only ones who questioned my crowning. Even those with all the details thought me a criminal.

  “That will do, Sevani,” Vi’den interrupted sharply. He did not wait for a response from Sevani or me and instead turned to Balor. “Thank you for your demonstration, Balor. I would like to ask you to return to your usual state if you please.”

  The dragon-beast snorted, a furl of white smoke spiraling from his left nostril, and he bowed his head. I watched him pull his arms against his chest as he curved his spine downward and bent into himself. It was like I was watching him shrink into a cocoon before my very eyes. Within seconds, the scales began to melt away into skin again, his claws retracted back into his fingers and toes, and he had returned to a reasonable height.

  “Thank you, Balor,” Vi’den said graciously to the Novai again. He rotated on the spot to address the rest of us, spreading his arms wide. “The Council will convene in Forum tonight to discuss these findings. Elder Sevani, have you anything to add?”

  “No,” Sevani said this through tight lips, his eyes pinned to me. I stared back just as boldly.

  “Then, I shall dismiss this meeting until the peak of the moon this eve.”

  Before Vi’den had even finished the last word of his statement, I had turned on my heel and stalked away from the group. I did not wish to be around Sevani longer than necessary, not because he was so unpleasant but because I did not trust myself to remain composed in his presence. There had been very few occasions in my life when I had felt Zuran was justified in his indifference or downright disrespect toward Elders, but I fully understood the consuming disdain he felt toward Sevani, and I could not help wondering how he had managed to refrain from striking the coarse, cold Pentaban.

  I tilted my face up to the sky, caught a graze of breeze across my cheeks, and jumped. Instantly, the moist air evaporated into cool relief as I zoomed across the boggy kingdom to my own. When I landed again, I welcomed the hot, oppressive atmosphere and looked up at my palace.

  There, scrawled on the cheerful turquoise wall in black streaks of still-wet paint, was a gut-wrenching phrase: “Ka-lik’et is Kharid.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Octavia

  Phoebe was the only walk-in I had, but I stayed until the salon closed for the night. When I made it back home, my mind was racing with
what Zuran had told me. It was still wholly unbelievable to me that Venan hadn’t dated before, not even once, if not for any other reason than his extraordinary attractiveness. Then again, just because I found him attractive by my standards, it didn’t mean A’li-uud women did; maybe in his world he was considered homely. It didn’t matter either way since I knew looking at him made me tingly all over, and I didn’t care for the idea of a smattering of A’li-uud clamoring all over him anyhow, but I couldn’t shake the surprise I felt that he’d never at least ventured into the dating world once. I didn’t consider myself the kind of woman to go out with every man I felt a spark with, and the total number of relationships I’d had could have been counted on one hand, but in comparison to Venan, I felt a little too experienced.

  Back inside my house, alone with no one but myself, I felt the familiar obsession beginning to fall over me again. It was frustrating, really, because while I’d always liked the idea of romance, I’d never been the type of girl to dream about my wedding day, a slew of kids and a big house in the suburbs. It wasn’t like me to be so hyperfocused on a man, and it definitely wasn’t like to me to be so hyperfocused on an alien. Yet, here I was, sitting on my couch once more with nothing on my brain but Venan.

  I didn’t bother to turn on any lights. Sitting in the dark actually felt kind of cozy. I reached for the blanket draped across the davenport arm and tugged it over me, curling into the soft chenille. It was one of the items I’d insisted on bringing with me to Albaterra. Part of agreeing to leave Earth behind was giving up most personal possessions, but there had been a few I’d been unable to part with, and the blanket was one. It wasn’t an heirloom or anything, just a comfortable piece I’d had since I’d signed the lease on my first apartment five years ago, but I had a habit of clinging to it like a child hugs a teddy bear whenever I dove too deeply into my thoughts. This was one of those times.

  Thinking about the blanket guided my mind to the most prized possession of all I’d taken along on my journey from Earth: my mother’s ring. I fiddled with the jewelry, twisting it and spinning it and rotating it back and forth. It hadn’t dawned on me Venan wouldn’t have seen a sapphire before until now. I remembered the sight of his fingertip pressing against the gem, relishing how closely in color his skin matched. My mom would’ve liked him for his skin alone. She had been obsessed with sapphires, or anything blue. The house we’d downsized to after Dad died had been a small Cape Cod in the gaudy mustard and burnt sienna tones of the seventies. She’d spent weeks straight redecorating that place and, by the time she’d finished, every room was a different shade of blue. I’d hated it.

  “God, Mom, it’s so depressing in here,” I groaned, yanking the sheer periwinkle curtains open to allow the afternoon sunshine into the room.

  “How was school?” She ignored my complaint and didn’t look at me as she asked the question. Splatters of cornflower blue paint dripped down her torn denim jeans and coated her Styx t-shirt so thoroughly she nearly blended into the wall behind her.

  I watched her slip the roller into the tray, sloshing dribbles over the rim and dotting her grass-stained Skechers before I answered. “Fine,” I said noncommittally. I didn’t want to talk about school. Since Dad passed, it was unbearable, and she’d find out about my slipping grades soon enough without me telling her.

  “How about giving me a hand?” she suggested, grunting slightly as she lifted herself onto her tiptoes to slide the roller up the wall to the ceiling. When she dropped down flat-footed, she finally turned toward me and jabbed the roller in my direction. Flecks of cornflower misted my tank top. “There’s another brush and tray behind you.”

  “Watch it!” I barked, jumping back and glaring down at myself. My nobody-gets-me black shirt had become a preppy top with pretty blue dots. “Look what you did!”

  She jammed a paint-patterned hand onto her hip and cocked her head, her raven ponytail swinging enthusiastically behind her. “I think you’re being a little over-dramatic.”

  “It’s this room,” I grumbled. I shot an accusatory look at the freshly-brightened wall. “It makes me feel jaded.”

  “You’re fourteen. You’re too young to be jaded,” she countered as she turned back toward her tray to dip the roller again. “Besides, blue is the perfect color. It’s calming and serene and evokes good thoughts. Plus, it’s supposedly an appetite-suppressant, so I’ll be able to stick to my diet.”

  “Because you need a diet so badly,” I sarcastically commented, eyeing her slender and distinctly youthful figure. When I’d started developing a year before, I had imagined I’d be the spitting image of her. Three months into puberty, I passed her up in both chest and hips, and it became clear really quickly I wasn’t destined to be the perky cheerleader type. I’d been sickeningly envious of her form ever since.

  She cast a scolding glance over her shoulder to me and said, “Don’t body-shame, Octavia. If it makes me feel good about myself to follow a healthy, sensible diet, you should be supportive of that. And you should learn to feel good about yourself too because you’re beautiful and the world would be a supremely boring place if we were all built the same.”

  “Yeah, right, whatever.” In my infinite teenage wisdom, it was easy to dismiss her sage advice. “I’m going upstairs.”

  “Homework before TV!” she called to my retreating back. I didn’t reply.

  By the time I woke up in the morning, the only room in the house that wasn’t blue was mine.

  The sapphire had grown warm to the touch from playing with it for so long, but I didn’t stop. Nothing was blue in Dhal’at, nothing except a few walls of the Elder palace and the A’li-uud who meandered the streets around them. And the sky, of course. The Albaterran sky was so vibrantly turquoise it was basically in technicolor, and it was the kind of sky that didn’t just linger overhead but actually swooped down upon everyone below and swallowed them up. I still thought Mom would’ve liked Dhal’at, though, especially Ka-lik’et. She would’ve delighted in hours spent wandering down the market walk, perusing the unusual items the merchants had for sale, and she probably would’ve found a way to paint her own little hut-house some shade of blue even if the colony didn’t allow it. She was just that sort of woman.

  I glanced around the room. Though it was dark, I could imagine it clearly down to the smallest details. In my mind’s eye, I saw her Victorian-style vase atop the squat bookshelf and her mobile of sea glass dangling above the tiny dining table. A print of droplet-covered blueberries she’d bought at a flea market a decade ago hung over the curved hearth. She was everywhere in this alien house, and rightly so because she hadn’t been anywhere during her last days.

  “Where are my candles?”

  Her voice had become as croaky as a frog’s in my absence, and I had to strain to hear each syllable in order to understand her. “I don’t know, Mom,” I said regretfully. “I don’t think you’re allowed to have candles here.”

  “What about my music box?”

  I blinked. For some reason, my throat felt full, and my eyes were beginning to sting. “I don’t know, Mom,” I repeated, just as regretfully as the first time.

  It hurt to admit it to myself, but I knew why I was growing tearful: because I should’ve known where her things were. I should’ve known she’d progressed so badly, that she’d lost most of her thick, dark hair except for a few stray patches and that she’d withered to a slight ninety-one pounds. I should have been there to help them sort out her room and get her accustomed to the new schedule and lift her spirits. The hospice nurses were great, phenomenal even, but they weren’t her daughter, and I should’ve left New York years ago when I first learned she had cancer.

  “Bring me that.” She made the command as if she was pointing at something, but she wasn’t able to lift her arm. I followed her gaze to a small wooden box on top of the standard-issue bureau where the nurses had neatly folded her clothes for safe-keeping even though she’d never wear them again. “Bring that here.”

  I d
id as bidden, slipping off the end of her bed and padding to the bureau to retrieve the box. I brought it back to her without asking questions, though I heard and felt something rattling inside. Her head moved like she was trying to take it from me, but she wasn’t. She couldn’t.

  “Open it,” she ordered.

  Again, I did as bidden. I lifted the lid off, and from within I saw a brilliant sparkle. A gasp lit on my lips. “Mom, it’s your ring!” I whispered, glancing hurriedly at the door to the hall to ensure nobody was near enough to hear me. “What are you doing with this in here? Someone could steal it!”

  “Not anymore,” she contradicted. “It’s yours.”

  “I can’t take this,” I murmured, lifting the ring from the box.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, you can,” she said sternly. “Blue is the perfect color.”

  I softened. Replacing the ring back into the box and sliding the lid on top once more, I nodded gently. “Okay,” I said, my eyes burning more than ever. “I’ll take it.”

  By the next morning, the beautiful blue ring was indeed mine.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Venan

  I failed to sleep that night. By the time the sun winked its first morning light over the desert horizon, my eyelids felt thick with unsated slumber, and my mind had filled with a thick, obscuring fog. Yet, I could not lie down and close myself to the world for a few necessary hours of rejuvenation. I was too angry.

  Hours of pacing around my bedroom had led to a small ovular track of activity from one side of my bed to the other. I had not left the room, nor had I bothered to look out of the window at the goings-on in the Ka-lik’et streets. I was utterly alone, but I had never felt more suffocated in my life. There was no one around to watch me, but I was watched. I was always watched. The faith of the Dhal’atian people did not lie at my feet as it had for my predecessor, and the stinging reminder of that raw truth was now painted on the side of my palace for all to see.