109. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
A nya
There are huge drassah plantations all over this sector of Numa, but I chose a relatively small operation for our tour. I wanted us to have a more personal experience. Besides, this place is known for the variant they’ve created that tastes like hazelnut. Well, I’m only guessing about the hazelnut idea, since that’s an Earth taste no one would be able to describe. But by its description, I’m hoping their melanga drassah varietal tastes like hazelnut. A girl can dream, can’t she?
We’re greeted by a young girl who’s either Morganian or human. She’s carrying a distinctive Numan drassah pot and two copper cups on a tray.
“Hi, welcome to the Happy Fields Plantation. I’m Tru,” she says with a head bow after we exit our hover.
“Human?” I ask, more excited about Tru than the drassah , and that’s saying something.
“Yes. My adoptive father, Ssly’Vestril, runs this business along with other members of his family, my adoptive mom, Carrie, and me. Carrie’s from Earth, too.” She smiles at both of us and dips her head, urging us to grab a cup of steaming brew.
“Cream?” she asks, indicating a small pitcher of cream on the hammered copper tray.
“Oh, Tru. I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” I say as I pour cream into my cup.
Rynn looks clueless.
“You might want to try it black. If that’s too strong, pour in some cream,” I tell him.
As much as I want to be his guide and teach him the beauties of coffee, I can’t wait another moment to take my first sip.
“Mmm,” is all the effort I can spare before I take another.
“Tru, I’m sure you hear this every day, but this is amazing.”
After my third sip, I watch as Rynn dips the tip of his tongue into his cup. I can’t help but flash to the mental image of him tasting his own sperm with the same level of fear and expectancy.
“Mmm,” he says as he tips the cup for his first actual sip. “Good. Should I try cream?” He eyes it, unsure if he wants to mess with the deliciousness of black drassah .
“Here.” I lift my cup for him to taste.
“Ahhh,” he says after swishing the coffee from my cup in his mouth. “I like them both. Do I have to choose?”
“No. You can switch off,” I tell him indulgently. Yep, sometimes he’s like a five-year-old experiencing all of life for the first time. It’s fun to watch.
Tru escorts us to a small building where she introduces us to her adoptive parents. Ssly, as he asked us to call him, looks like all Numans, with thick bands of flesh on his head instead of hair. He’s strikingly handsome in a blue-green alien way.
Maybe I’m wrong, but I think Carrie’s a bit older than him, although she’s got a babe in her arms and a wide smile plastered on her face. It makes me happy to think that so many of us abducted Earth girls wound up with great mates and happy, productive lives.
A pang of sadness darts through me at that thought. I had that for three short years. It was stolen from me.
As Ssly conducts the tour, showing us plants in every stage of growth from seedlings in a hothouse, to being planted outdoors, to bursting with white flowers and finally, the maroon beans that become drassah , Carrie keeps up a side conversation.
“I feel as if I know you, Zar,” she says. “The captain of the pirate ship where Ssly and I met used to talk about you and your ship. I hear you and the pirates had a difficult beginning.”
Rynn must be aware of the story, since he has Zar’s memories, but I take over the conversation, since I’m the one who lived through it.
“Captain Thantose caught our ship in a net and was in the process of extorting money from us when he discovered his long-lost cousin Devolose was on our ship. It was a tense couple of hours,” I say, relieved that moment is in the past.
“I don’t think Thantose has decided if he’s a bad guy or a good guy,” Carrie says. “For a pirate, he’s generous to a fault.”
Ssly nods his agreement, then brings us to the roasting area where he boasts about how they still roast their beans the old-fashioned way.
“We’d invite you to our house,” Carrie says at the end of the tour, “but we have a previous engagement. If you want to take a walk, there’s an amazing view of the lake in that direction.” She points. “We have a hammock there. Feel free to nap before you get back in your hover to return to the dark side.”
We thank them for the great tour, pay them for several industrial-sized sacks of their beans that the males load into the back of our hover, and strike off toward the hammock on foot.
I hadn’t noticed during the tour, but it’s obvious that Rynn is irritated. Just like Zar, his nostrils flare and his lips press together when he’s angry.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Oh no he didn’t. Is he really going to act like an angry junior high school girl?
“You’re ticked. What’s up?”
He slows his pace, then stops altogether. “You let her think I’m Zar. I’m not. Why didn’t you give me a proper introduction?”
He’s right. She’d heard of Zar and I let her act as if that was who she was talking to.
The lake is to our left, and on our right is a hammock, just as Carrie described. It’s handmade out of the braided elephant-ear-shaped leaves that are so prevalent here. Grabbing Rynn’s hand, I pull him toward the hammock, and we both sit. With our weight on it, it dips in the middle, so our hips smash together.
“You’re right. I let it go. I’m not sure why I didn’t introduce you. Maybe it seemed too complicated…” Even as I say those words, I know that’s not the whole truth. Rynn’s a straight-shooter. I’ve never known him to lie. I owe him the same degree of honesty.
“No. It’s not just that it was too complicated,” I admit as I take his hand and twine my fingers through his. “Seriously, I’m not sure how to explain it to someone. ‘This is Rynn. He’s a symbiote that took over Zar’s body’. Sounds pretty unbelievable when I say it out loud. So it just seemed easier to let her believe you are Zar. Maybe…” I work up the nerve to look at him. He’s not angry at me. I see that now. He’s hurt. Here he is, trying to discover the person he was meant to be, and I pretended like he wasn’t even there. No wonder I’ve bruised his feelings.
“Even though everyone on the Fool’s Errand knows who you are, maybe there was something about admitting it out loud to strangers that would have made it real. Obviously, I still haven’t completely accepted that reality. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Thanks.”
I feel his body stand down, as if all he needed was an apology from me. My heart swells with affection for him. Is that what’s happening? I’m growing fond of Rynn. This thought calms me. After all, it’s what I’d hoped for.
We work together to lie down in the hammock. It’s at the perfect angle so we can lie here and swing and watch the waterfowl land and swim and then fly away.
Although we hear insects buzzing in the background, they don’t come anywhere near us. We’re covered by a canopy of emerald leaves so thick that only tiny shards of light occasionally work their way to the forest floor. It’s calm and quiet and safe here.
I wiggle and pull Rynn’s arm to the side so I can lay my head on his bicep, then drowse.
Rynn
It’s happening.
As if every moment of my life was weaving together into a tapestry that after three millennia would look like this.
Anya likes me. She was genuinely sorry she hurt my feelings and then apologized easily. Look at her, asleep on my arm as if she belongs here. And she does. My heart feels so tender toward her. Looking at it from her perspective, I can see how difficult it is for her to explain this situation to others. We’ll have to discuss this later.
I wish this moment would never end. I have a beautiful, kind female in my arms. We’ve navigated troubled waters and still like and admire each other. I won’t discuss this with her now. We can let this peace we’ve developed grow between us. But for the first time since all this happened, I believe Anya and I could have a life together. I’m growing to love her, and, by the look of things, she’s growing to care for me.
I smile a genuine smile for perhaps the first time in my long life. I feel happy, content, and optimistic as she moves in her sleep, burrowing even closer to me as she slings her arm around my waist. I could stay like this forever.
Anya
My eyes open lazily, and it takes a moment to remember where I am. Usually, when something like this happens, I feel a moment of panic, but I don’t now. I’m in Rynn’s arms, and that makes everything feel safe.
Did I really just think that? Did I really think of him as simply Rynn? Not Zar? Not Zar-Rynn? Am I developing a relationship with him? Guilt slices through me so hot and quick and painful it feels like a knife. It’s only been two months since Zar’s been gone. Have I forgotten him so soon? Am I so willing to say goodbye to him and move on?
That’s not fair, I scold myself. I’m in an insane situation. What good would it do to keep Rynn at arm’s length? He’s wearing my mate’s skin. The fact that I’m attracted to him can’t be helped. And he’s so nice, so earnestly thoughtful and helpful. I could certainly do a lot worse.
We’re lying together in a hammock, gently swaying in the breeze. My attention is caught by the waterfowl’s brilliant, shimmering maroon, gold, and emerald feathers.
“Paradise,” I whisper, assuming Rynn won’t hear me. I figure he’s asleep.
“Paradise,” he agrees.
Tipping my head to look at him, I don’t see Rynn. No. I’m in Zar’s arms. I think Rynn and I could stay together a millennium and I’d feel that way. This body, the furred bicep my head has been resting on, the brilliant white of his fangs, the golden orbs of his eyes—they’re Zar’s.
Rynn leans onto his side to face me, then slips his arm around me and tugs me closer. His eyes are at half-mast, almost unfocused, but his attention is fully on me.
“We want this, right?” he asks, tipping his head in question.
I could play stupid, ask him to explain, but I know what he’s asking.
“Yes. We’re developing a relationship. I feel good when I’m with you, comfortable. I trust you, Rynn.” My eyes focus on his lips, and for the first time since we agreed to wait three months to explore a physical relationship, I think about kissing him.
Although I’ve kept it at bay, all at once a tsunami of need courses through my body. We’re pressed together. The hammock has dipped, forcing us closer than we would have chosen. His furred arms are wrapped around me. His gaze is focused on my mouth. It would be easy to lean closer, graze his lips, then slip my tongue inside to taste him.
My gaze flicks between his feline mouth and his golden eyes. Get the hint, Rynn , I think. Lean in, tilt your head, and brush my lips with yours.
He’s definitely contemplating it. His tongue swipes between his lips as if it’s readying the playing field, but he’s not inching closer. I stretch, arching my back so my diamond-hard nipple grazes his side. It’s a hint, Rynn. This is me telling you the runway is open and cleared for landing.
Another lick of his lips, another far-too-lengthy look at my mouth, and yet more waiting.
I can’t be the on e, I scold myself. I cannot be the one who makes the first move. It has to be him. He’s the one who decreed the three-month rule. He has to be the one who breaks it.
He holds his hand up, flicks his claws out, and combs my hair. It’s half caress, half grooming. He nudges me away from him so I can watch the lazy lake activity while he pets me. I must admit, it feels heavenly. Just not the part of heaven I’d wanted to visit. I was hoping for the wild side, and what he’s giving me is sweetness.
For a moment, I mourn his choice. I’d wished for kisses—and something more. But what he’s giving me is perfect. I feel his devotion soaking through my pores. That he’s following his own self-imposed edict means something, too.
“You’re worth waiting for,” he rumbles into my ear. “I want to kiss you, to taste you again, and to dive into the feelings I get when I’m with you. But we decided to wait. I never want you to regret what we create together. I want it to be perfect if it happens.”
Hot tears spring to my eyes. I’m not sad. No, these are sweet tears. I’ll never get Zar back. I’ve accepted that, but there are worse things in the galaxy than being with a male who is as sensitive and thoughtful as Rynn.
He kisses the back of my head, then a happy feline chuff explodes from his mouth.
“Perfect,” he says as his arm surrounds my waist and tugs me closer.
I must have fallen asleep again, because I wake to more kisses on the back of my head and Rynn’s softly crooned, “Anya. Anya, we should go.”
He’s right. It looks like the sun is edging toward the horizon. The last thing I need is to have to hover halfway across the planet in the dark.
Something changed for both of us in that hammock. He doesn’t let go of me as we walk to our hover. He’s either holding my hand or keeping his palm on the small of my back. It’s sweet and gentle, just like his personality.
I’m growing to like him more every day. He’s not Zar. As soon as I stopped expecting him to be Zar, everything began to slot into place. Zar? Zar was larger than life—a gladiator, a natural-born leader. He was decisive and fair and a person everyone looked up to.
Rynn is quiet, introspective, and thoughtful. He’s more of a rule-follower than a rule-maker, but not everyone can be a Zar. Rynn is kind and honest and fulfills his promises. He’s brilliant, but doesn’t make others feel stupid. He said it’s the first time in his very long life he has people who want to hear what he knows. I appreciate him.
I grip his hand tighter and swing it as we jog to our hover. I can enjoy the sweetness of this moment, because it is sweet, even as I know I’ll cry myself to sleep tonight like I have every night since the avalanche.
Rynn
“Is my flying scaring you?” Anya asks.
“No. You’re quite competent,” I tell her. I’m especially impressed with how she handles the hover in the dark. I blame myself for not waking her earlier, but it was such a privilege to watch her sleep in that hammock. I let it go on longer than I should have. “I’m enjoying the ride.”
“Then why are you wiggling more than a three-year-old doing the pee-pee dance?”
It takes me a moment to parse through her idioms, but I finally understand her meaning. I don’t, however, know how to answer her question.
“You’re not freaked out by my driving?”
“No.”
“Do you need me to pull over so you can go potty?”
“No.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m ready to be back onboard the Fool ,” is all I say.
She turns on the cabin light and glances over at me. No, it’s not a glance, that would be quick. This is more like scrutiny. Then she makes a humph noise in the back of her throat, turns off the light and focuses out the front screen.
“It’s been months,” she says, her voice level. “Certainly you’ve figured out how to deal with your… problem, right?”
“Problem?” I ask innocently. Does she know my secret?
“I’m not the galaxy’s biggest expert, Rynn, but I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that you could damage yourself if you have a hard-on for too long.”
“Don’t tease, Anya. Besides, I don’t have that problem.”
“Do I need to pull this hover over and inspect you?” she threatens. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before. I was mated to the guy in that body for almost three years.”
She points at my genitals as if it weren’t the most embarrassing threat in the galaxy.
“You wouldn’t!” I smack my palm on my chest in consternation.
“I would,” she says.
Luckily, she doesn’t appear to be preparing for landing.
“Admit it, Rynn. You’ve got a boner.”
“What?” I ask, even though I know what her little colloquialism means.
“You’ve got an erection, a stiffy, a chubbie, you’re sprouting wood, pitching a tent, you’re sporting a gallant salute, there’s a party in your pants.”
She said that as if she were reading out of the dictionary. Me, on the other hand, I turn my head from her and pretend to look out the side window. The dark night has turned the window into a mirror. I’ve never seen my shocked face in Zar’s body before. It’s scary.
“Admit it,” she urges.
“Yes. I have an erection. I’ve been around a female all day whom I find very attractive and, due to my rather unusual circumstances, I believe I’m still experiencing adolescence.”
“How sweet,” she says. “You find me attractive.”
“Of course. Should I have mentioned it earlier? I thought I’d made it clear that I find you quite appealing.”
“Yes, but a female likes to hear that all the time. Read some more articles. All the time , Rynn.”
“You’re very attractive,” I tell her earnestly.
“All the time except right this moment,” she says with a smile. “Tell me at other times, like when I least expect it.” She pauses as if she’s done, then continues, “Except not when the mood isn’t right, you know? Like when we’re having a fight or something scary or sad is happening. And probably not when we’re just chilling with a bunch of our friends.”
She’s giving me pointers on how to make her happy. That’s a good thing, right? How come it feels like she thinks I’m an idiot?
“You have figured out how to take care of yourself, right?”
Thank goodness. She’s changing the subject.
“Well, I still couldn’t cook for myself if I had to live on my own. I’ll need a few more lessons with Maddie. And the laundry machines still baffle me, I’m sorry to say—”
“What are you talking about?”
“Taking care of myself. In case this thing between us doesn’t work and I need to set up house on a yet-to-be-determined planet.”
“Are you being dense on purpose?” She sneaks a look at me, her brow furrowed.
“Dense?”
“You are masturbating on the regular, right?” Somehow her tone sounds like mine when I’m discussing a dry journal article.
“Mastur—” I cannot say that word in front of Anya. It feels dirty.
“Masturbating, Rynn. Jacking off, polishing the bishop, beating your meat, wanking, choking the chicken, spanking the weasel, whacking the one-eyed worm—”
“I’m not stupid. I understand that word.” In three millennia, I don’t believe I’ve ever been so embarrassed I wanted to become invisible.
“And?” She persists. “Are you doing it?”
For the swiftest moment I consider not answering, but I’m afraid she’ll launch into more synonyms for the act, and I don’t think I could live through another round of that.
“No.”
“No? Seriously? We’ve been hanging out together for two months and you’ve never…?”
“I’ve lived a long time without such behavior. I figured I could continue to live without it.” I tried to say that with an even tone, but I botched it. I sounded defensive. No, I sounded prudish.
Anya just suggested I read articles on interpersonal relations. What she doesn’t know is that I have been. I believe I recently read a magazine from Aeon II that stated females don’t like their males to be prudish, especially about sexual matters. I’m hopeless.
“Zar and I were mated for three years. I am well acquainted with what his body does when he’s aroused. Rynn, how are you managing? I assumed you were rubbing one out several times a day.”
“I’m not.” Drat. I just sounded prudish again. One thing is certain, I’m definitely not going to admit I wake up every morning with wet, sticky sheets.
“Why?”
“It doesn’t feel natural. And… I thought if you found out, you’d think less of me.” Whew. At least that’s out in the open.
“Well, it’s the most natural thing in the galaxy, and it’s not healthy to hold back. Everyone does it. I wouldn’t think less of you.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“No. I do it. The body has needs.”
Anya… spanks the weasel? My mind finds this disconcerting, yet my cock is punching against the front of my pants as if he wants to fight his way out.
I’m dying to know how she does it. I actually bite my lips to keep myself from enquiring.
“You need to do it when we get back to the Fool ,” she says, her voice matter-of-fact.
When I start to protest, she says, “Ask Dr. Drayke if you don’t believe me. Seriously, Rynn, it’s not healthy.”
Although I never needed to worry about these things before in my Boklorn bodies, I page through a few easily accessible scientific articles in Area 87,430, Section B, of my databanks. I hate to admit it, but she’s correct.
“Need some help?” she asks. Her voice sounds different, breathy.
I lean over to examine her expression to discern if she’s stifling a laugh or hiding desire. Perhaps a little of both.
“No.” Crap. That was my prudish voice again.
“We agreed no sexual touching for three months, right?” She asks in that way she has of getting me to trap myself.
“Yes.”
“We’re going back to the Fool , then we’ll have a good dinner, and take showers. Then we’re going to have phone sex.”
I pretend to look out the side window again, and yet again see my shocked visage as I scroll as fast as I can through as many articles on dating and sexuality as I can find. “Fonesex” is nowhere to be found.
Just as don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask , becomes my mantra, I ask, “What is this Fonesex?”
“You’ll be in your bed and I’ll be in mine. We’ll talk each other through it.”
“It?” Oh, crap. Prudish.
“We’ll spank the weasel together.”
Maybe I can blame it on the fact I’m in a relatively new body, but I actually choke on my spit.