Chapter 7 #2
He hesitates. “In part, yes,” he says. “I was ashamed. And also, I realized, the scientists are not friends. I think they lie to me when they say I will one day be free.” He glowers toward the mirror. “Better to die than to stay here as a prisoner forever.”
“That’s very noble of you, X,” I say softly, squeezing his knee again. His eyes dart to the touch, pupils dilating as he focuses on it. I have an urge to recoil, but I suppress it, rubbing my thumb soothingly over his leg instead. I need to be very careful. “But…I must admit I am a little afraid.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Do not be. I will protect you, taujak. You are mine.”
That word again. The fact he didn’t default to the translation of mine suggests it still isn’t quite right for what he means. “I believe you. But I fear what will happen if I trigger your instincts on accident when you are very hungry.”
His expression clouds, chin dipping. He does not try to console me with promises that he won’t, which deepens my fear.
“Maybe it will be easier to control your instincts if you aren’t so hungry,” I suggest carefully. He hums in vague agreement. “So…will you eat when the scientists bring you more food?” I ask. “For my safety, will you eat?”
After a moment, he nods.
I let out a relieved breath and glance toward the mirror, pushing my glasses up. Hear that, assholes? I’m helping. “Is there something you prefer? Did you like when your prey was alive?”
“Alive,” he murmurs, seeming to think about it.
“Yes. On my home planet, my people, we hunt and eat immediately, so the meat will not turn bad. This way feels right. Though I would feel better if the food—the prey, you call it? If it was bigger. It shames me, a little, to eat…small creatures. You understand? On my home, small creatures are not for eating.”
“You don’t want to eat vermin,” I say. “Yes. I understand. Humans usually don’t like to eat creatures like that, either.
” I pat his knee one final time and turn to fully face the mirror.
“Did you hear that, Akimov?” I ask, raising my voice.
“Bring him something live and large to eat. No more rabbits. Perhaps a goat or a pig.”
I know that the scientists on the other end can speak back to me at any time they wish, but no answer comes. God, I hope it’s because they’re ashamed. Sighing, I return to X-11, sitting closer to him than before.
“Tell me more about your people,” I say.
We talk for hours. X tells me about his home planet and culture, painting the image of a group of nomadic hunters.
Warlike tribes that must compete fiercely for limited resources.
Females of his kind are deeply cherished; it is a great honor, he says, to be chosen by one. They are rare. A taujak is even rarer.
I still don’t understand what the word means. At first I think X simply isn’t sure how to translate, yet as time goes on, I begin to think he is dodging the question intentionally. Like he’s embarrassed about the answer.
I don’t press. My situation here is still precarious. More precarious than I realized, it seems, as hours slip by and no food arrives for X, despite the request I passed along to the scientists.
Maybe they’re working on procuring him a larger prey animal, like I told them.
But I’m beginning to fear there is something more nefarious happening here.
Because it would be a lot simpler for Akimov and his team if I were to die in a tragic accident with a subject, rather than being able to walk out of here and tell my own version of what happened.
My body alternates between stress and exhaustion. I ache to do something, but there’s nothing to do. Eventually, my sleepless night and the constant state of anxiety catch up to me.
I must doze off without realizing it. Because when I wake again, the lights have dimmed, and strong arms are lifting me off the floor.
My body stiffens, and I automatically try to push myself away. “What—”
“You must rest, Calli.” X’s voice is a low rumble in the darkness. “You will be more comfortable in my den.”
The sleep chamber. I want to protest, but I’m not sure how to excuse myself without angering him. I’m freshly aware of how helpless I am as he holds me like I weigh nothing at all.
He holds me close. Closer than we’ve been since I warned him to stay back. I had wondered if his shape-shifted form would feel faulty upon close inspection, but he feels solid and all too real, though his skin is cooler than I’d expected.
Shifting so one arm cradles me against his chest, he grabs the edge of the sleep pod with his free hand and lifts us both up and onto the cot.
The material is spongy, firmer than most beds, but certainly comfier than the floor.
He places me atop it and climbs on beside me, one arm cradling me close, my back to his chest. With the click of a button, the glass closes over us.
The glass cover tints dark as it shuts, hiding us from the outside world.
It smells so strongly of him in here. That distinct scent, warm and musky with a hint of honeyed sweetness. My own breathing is loud in the enclosed space. Each exhale is shaky, but I try to keep myself composed. I’m trapped with an alien. I can’t panic. Panic could mean death.
“Is this okay?” I ask, barely a whisper. “Am I taking up too much of your space?”
I can feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest. The sound is not quite human, almost a growling sound low in his throat, but much more genuine than his attempts at imitating human laughter.
“You are not taking up space. You are very small.”
And he is…larger, I notice, within the sleep chamber.
His torso feels broader against my back, and he takes up even more space than I expected.
I glance at the hand settled around my waist and see that it, too, seems bigger, still humanoid but oddly stretched.
His form has relaxed in the privacy of the sleep chamber, closer to his true size. I shut my eyes, disconcerted.
“I thought you usually slept in your…natural form,” I say carefully.
“What is natural form?”
“Your real self. Your nonhuman self.”
“Ah. Yes. I do sleep in my true body. It is harder to hold this false shape when tired.”
I swallow. My stomach flips.
There’s a lengthy pause. “But I do not wish to frighten you.”
“I…I want you to be comfortable,” I say, wary of offending him.
“Your comfort is more important,” he says. “If you were to be scared too much and make a noise when we are this close…”
“Ah. I-I understand.” There’s a flicker of cold fear at the realization. If I gasp or scream or do anything else that might activate his predatory instincts, he could kill me in half a second. “I…”
“Let us wait,” he says. “Soon the lights turn dark. Maybe I will be less scary to you.”
Unfortunately, the thought of being trapped with an alien being I can’t even see only heightens my fear. But there’s nothing to do but nod.
I fidget awkwardly, trying to make myself comfortable without bothering him. Every time I try to inch away, his grip on my waist pulls me back. The second time I attempt it, he lets out a low rumble that sounds like a growl, and I give up and nestle against him.
The cell’s lights are already dim through the tinted glass, so when they click off, it becomes pitch-black within the sleep chamber. My breath hitches.
I feel X move behind me, shifting and rearranging. His chest expands against my back, and he presses me against the side of the chamber. The fingers on my hip lengthen, curling around my waist. But they remain fingers. It seems his true form has hands very similar to ours. That’s interesting.
But where are his—
Something curls lightly around one of my legs, making me shiver. I can’t feel it well enough to tell through my pants, but…it must be one of the tentacles I’ve seen before. Another brushes against my hair.
I force myself to take deep breaths and remain very still until his form settles against my back.
“This is all right?” he asks. His voice is different, too. Deeper, edged with a growl that I can feel reverberating in his body behind me.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “It’s…cozy.”
“I do not know this word.”
“Comfortable,” I say. And then, quieter, “Safe.”
“Good. Yes. It is safe, Calli.”
It feels very intimate, sleeping pressed against him like this. Both of us fully enclosed within the egg-shaped chamber so that not even the scientists from outside can watch. But I’m exhausted from the ordeal of the last couple of days and my fitful sleep on the tiles last night.
It’s still cold in here, but gradually, my body heat warms the space—and X’s skin.
He presses close against me, sighing happily. “So warm,” he says, nuzzling against my neck.
I stiffen as his face rubs on the sensitive skin of my neck. It’s hard not to think about how easy it would be for him to sink his sharp teeth into me, or crush my windpipe beneath his palms.
But his arms are gentle as they encircle my waist, and even though he is discomfortingly close against me, I can’t detect any intent to harm me. Nor does it seem sexual. He is still wearing some approximation of the clothes he had in his human guise, maintaining a thin barrier between our bodies.
He seems to just…want to cuddle. I guess I can understand that, since he seems to be something akin to a reptile, kept in this unnaturally cold environment.
And really, this is a small sacrifice to keep him endeared to me.
So, gradually, my tense muscles relax, and I curl up against his bigger form.
I cringe with embarrassment as I think of the scientists behind the glass knowing I’m here, cuddled up with a monster. But then I remember they intended to watch said monster eat me, and anger surges up instead. Let them watch as I outsmart them. I don’t care if they judge me, as long as I survive.
If I play this carefully, X could be the key to that. I remember that as I pull his arms more snugly around me and drift off to sleep with his cold alien breath stirring my hair.