12. Katarina
12
KATARINA
W hen I wake up, Zas’tu is already out of bed. His shadow moves outside the tent door, cast by the small fire he’s started. Does he ever sleep?
My mom was always up first when I was growing up. She’d have breakfast waiting, by the time any of the rest of us awoke. I think, in part, I feel that’s a thing I should do. That’s probably why it feels wrong that he keeps waking up before me and has my breakfast waiting. Hmm, isn’t it strange how our experiences shape us?
I get up, pull my pants on, taking a moment to appreciate the gentle ache in my pussy. Damn he’s good. Before I pull my pants all the way up, I rub my hand over my pubic hair, closing my eyes and smiling at the memory of last night.
Finishing dressing, I fold our sleeping blankets and then scan the tent for anything left behind before exiting. Zas is kneeling on the opposite side of the fire, tossing a skillet over the flames. He flashes his brilliant, crooked smile the moment he sees me.
“Treasure,” he says, his voice almost a growl and incredibly possessive.
What’s even stranger is the way my body reacts. I’m instantly wet, my knees grow weak, my heart patters, and my breathing speeds up. I smile, shaking my head and pushing a stray strand of hair out of my face.
“Morning,” I say, delaying.
Feeling awkward and unsure, I walk to his side and take a seat. I don’t know what to say or do. All of this is new. Different. And strange, but what should I expect? I’m dating an alien.
Dating? Is that what this is?
It doesn’t feel like dating and maybe that’s part of the issue. Dating is getting to know the other person. Figuring out where you agree and where you disagree. What you have in common and what you don’t. All the silly, awkward uncoverings of who that other person really is. There is always, that unknown element about it.
I don’t feel that with Zas. I don’t even think about it most of the time. I just know what he’s going to do, without really realizing I do. It’s more like it was with my best friend back on the ship. Jackie and I grew up together. Spent all our time together and there was never any guessing what she was thinking or likely to do because she was so familiar. So much a part of me and my life. None of which meant our lives were boring. We certainly had plenty of adventures.
Fuck, I miss her.
The emptiness where she belongs is always there. Buried by the passing of time, hidden away by not looking back, but always waiting. In the shadows of my mind, ready to leap out and remind me of the loss.
Zas’tu puts his arm around my shoulders and tugs me into his chest. I tilt my head back to see his face. He’s frowning as he stares into my eyes.
“Okay?” he asks, squeezing tighter.
Even the heavy sadness of her loss can’t stop the smile from forming on my face. I blink away the tears that are now a mix of joy and sadness.
“Yeah,” I say, throat tight, nodding. I reach out and trail my fingers over his cheek then back up, running them through his hair. “Mine.”
It’s not something I thought about. The word comes unbidden but there is no stopping it. As much as him, calling me ‘treasure’ felt like a claiming when I emerged moments ago, this is my claiming him.
He is mine. I am his. We are.
It’s crazy. Maybe stupid. Maybe insane. I don’t know but I do know what I am feeling. Even more, what I am thinking. Human relationships and Zmaj are clearly not the same. I don’t know that human to human have anything like what I’m feeling now outside the imaginings of poets but me and him, this is it.
I love him.
The moment the thought forms it feels as if my chest expands. My heart speeds up, my breath catches, and all the while it’s as if I’m lifted on fluffy wings of delicate clouds towards some unimaginable paradise. I feel as if I am more. Better just for having come to this conclusion. As if there is nothing more this world has to offer. In some strange and unclear way, I am whole. The empty ache where my friend belongs isn’t gone, but he eases the loss of her.
Wrapping one arm around his back, slipping underneath his wings, I rest my head on his chest. The beating of his hearts is a reassuringly steady double thumping. I close my eyes and let myself just be while he finishes our breakfast.
We don’t spend very long. Eating, packing our tent and belongings, then we’re back on our mounts and moving. I reflect on how little we talk yet how well we move in synchronicity. Surely that is another sign that this is right. I think?
These are not doubts that I’m wrestling with. It all feels natural and only because I’m trying to understand it analytically am I even aware of a lot of this. Turning over every detail because in truth I don’t want to be wrong. Already the idea of losing him opens an abyss in my heart.
As I consider the mounts move us forward. The rolling dunes of sand have grown taller and bigger. The one we are climbing now is steep enough that I’m pressing against the spines behind the saddle. It must be around a forty degree angle. Not straight up or anything crazy but it’s one big dune.
The shades of red and white striated sand slips and slides as the guster climbs. If we weren’t mounted there is no way I could climb this thing. Even the guster, with its wide webbed feet designed for moving over this crazy planet, is having a tough time. Every step forward it slides back half a step.
Zas reaches the top first and halts his mount. He stares ahead while my mount finishes the climb and then turns towards me when I finally arrive.
“There,” he says, pointing ahead.
The dune we’re on is the taller by far than those around us. A stretch of what looks like a mountain range, though from what I studied of geography and have seen in old Earth vids I’m not sure it’s big enough to classify as one. I have no clue what the proper title of it would be but that is really a moot point.
“Is that where they are?”
Zas nods slowly. “If no lies.”
Right. If we believe a prisoner. One who is operating on his own agenda that none of us are completely sure is in alignment with ours. He is, after all, a member of the cult-like Order. The same group that our Zmaj escaped from.
“Yeah,” I say, shrugging off the fears and concerns. “We ride?”
“Yes, my treasure,” he says, flashing his crooked grin which is full of confidence and certainty.
Butterflies dance in my stomach, both from fear, but every bit as much from the way he makes me feel. I stretch out my arm and he takes my hand. He grips tight then we let each other go, but the feeling of his touch lingers.
He taps his heels to his mount, and it lurches ahead. Mine follows without any command from me. My stomach drops as the guster steps over the lip and onto the steep angle down. There is a wide flat space between this dune and the rocky almost mountain formation.
We’ll be fully exposed on our approach. There is no way to get there without being easily seen. Which, I realize, is probably by design. If I were going to build a hidden outpost and wanted it to be defensible this is what I would pick.
The drop of my belly turns to churning as we reach the bottom of the dune and journey towards the cliffs. The back of my neck itches terribly. We’re riding into the jaws of the enemy and we both know it. How Zas manages to appear nonchalant as he rides, I do not understand. I keep shifting uncomfortably in my saddle.
We enter the shadows of the mountain. I struggle with the urge to turn my mount and ride as fast as I can in the opposite direction. Zas makes a ‘tsk’ sound as he taps his mount to go faster. I’m tossed back as mine lurches to match his speed.
When Zas’tu reaches behind himself, and draws his lochaber, I know we’re in trouble.