Drova
The Kra-ell were supposed to enjoy the tropical island weather, but here she was, with the air conditioning turned on to its maximum cooling capacity because she'd been born in one of the coldest regions on Earth and wasn't used to the tropical heat.
Pavel's words about acclimating to their environment echoed in her head.
He was such a hypocrite. She still remembered him and his friends talking about preserving their Kra-ell ways and not assimilating into the clan.
But then he'd joined the Guardian Force and his tune had changed completely, and now he was all for becoming not just like the immortals but also like the humans.
He was also in Safe Harbor, part of the team that was going on the mission to the Doomers' island, and she had to train with him every day.
Talk about torture.
Drova threw off the thin blanket and got out of bed.
The alarm clock on her nightstand proclaimed that it was eleven minutes past eleven, the numbers glowing in green and looking smug about it, mocking her with their fake significance.
Her eighteenth birthday was in eleven days, but that had nothing to do with the numbers on the stupid clock.
She pulled on her uniform, which consisted of black cargo pants, a black tank top, and black combat boots. Not the new ones she'd worn to Arezoo's wedding, but her old ones that were scuffed, well worn, and molded to her feet like a second skin.
Releasing her long hair from the braid she'd woven for sleep, Drova brushed it back and put it into a ponytail. She didn't look in the mirror because why bother? She knew what she looked like.
For the duration of the training for the mission, she'd moved from the house she had shared with her mother and Phinas to the dormitories where the team was staying, and there was a good chance she would bump into someone on her way out, but she hoped she wouldn't. She didn't want to stop and chat with anyone.
Thankfully, she didn't have to share a room in the dormitory because she was the only female on the team, and the doors to the other rooms she passed on her way out were closed.
She didn't have to worry about running into anyone since there weren't any guards posted.
There was no need. She compelled every human on the island to be friendly and cooperative, and so they were.
All the construction workers and those who trained with the exoskeletons had gone through the same process.
She occasionally reinforced the compulsion to ensure everyone knew their place.
As for outside threats, the electronic surveillance took care of that.
Dandor and Wellgorst had done a superb job under Ruvon's remote guidance, and William's crew of engineers had checked all the systems that had been installed by them and approved.
There were no lights on the island at night despite the human population that needed them, but Drova had no trouble seeing with just the moonlight illuminating the path winding down to the beach.
The tide was out, and a wide stretch of dark sand extended toward the water. The surf was gentle, yet the ocean's never-ending rumble filled the air.
She kept walking toward the water.
The restlessness in her body was a familiar thing. It had been with her for as long as she could remember, the low hum of energy that needed somewhere to go, the muscles that needed to be moving, the mind that needed to be solving something.
Kra-ell were not built for stillness, and for her, it always got worse at night.
It had something to do with the way the day's events insisted on being reviewed, her mind circling back to irritating moments.
Tonight the moments her mind kept replaying were small but nevertheless irritating. Pavel's hand brushing hers in practice. Pavel's voice in the briefing room. Pavel laughing at something stupid Anandur had said.
Pavel.
She kicked at a piece of driftwood that had washed up onto the sand, but the angle had been all wrong, and all she got to show for her effort was digging the wood deeper into the sand.
"You should have used the side of your boot and aimed up instead of forward."
Drova rolled her eyes and didn't turn around.
Out of everyone she could have bumped into tonight, the Mother of All Life had decided to send Pavel to bother her.
"Maybe I wanted to bury it in the sand," she said. "What are you doing out here?" She kept walking.
He fell into step beside her. "The same thing you are. The air conditioning is a joke, and it's stifling hot in the barracks. I can't sleep."
"You are a pureblooded Kra-ell. We are supposed to enjoy the tropical heat."
"Right. You and I were not born on Anumati. We were born in Karelia. Sometimes, I miss that place."
She turned to look at him. "You do?"
"No, not really. Well, parts of it I miss, like running through the woods and the game we could hunt there. I'm so sick of drinking blood from goats and sheep or from a box or a bag."
"Yeah." She sighed. "I hear you. I love the taste of moose, but I love the taste of freedom more."
He chuckled. "Well said, Drova. Well said."
His praise shouldn't please her so much, but it did.
They walked in silence for a few paces, the sand crunching under their boots.
"How is Arezoo?" he asked.
"She transitioned."
He stopped walking. "Are you serious? And you haven't said anything?"
She shrugged. "I thought you knew."
"How would I know that?"
"Don't you talk with anyone back home? Your father, mother, brother?"
"I do." He caught up to her. "But they didn't tell me. I'm glad that she made it through. How is she doing?"
"Great. She said something about her wound healing in thirty-something seconds, which is supposed to be a good time for a cut to heal. I don't really know what it means."
"The immortals time how long a cut takes to heal completely," Pavel said. "We don't heal nearly as fast."
"No, we don't. We also don't live forever."
"A thousand years is plenty. I don't want to live forever."
She frowned at him. "Are you saying that because there is nothing you can do about it or because you really believe it?"
"I believe it. I don't know how these immortals tolerate being alive for so long. It must get so boring."
"Most of them aren't older than a thousand." Drova kicked at a pebble. "Anandur is, and Annani and Toven are gods, and they are ancient. Kian is two thousand years old, and I bet he wishes his life could be a little boring. He has to deal with one crisis after another."
They reached a stretch of beach where the sand had been compacted into a low ridge by the previous high tide, and a few flat rocks were embedded in the ridge like steps. The largest of them was wide enough to sit on, and Drova made for it.
Pavel followed.
She sat down at one end, he sat down at the other, and there was about half a meter of rock between them.
"So," Pavel said. "Eleven days?"
"What?"
"Your mother told me that your birthday is in eleven days."
"Why would she tell you that? It's not like we celebrate birthdays."
"Eighteen is an important birthday."
She shrugged. "Eighteen has no special meaning to us."
Immortals considered seventeen the age of majority, and the Kra-ell had different ages of consent for males and females.
"We should celebrate it," he said.
"You'll be back in the village on my birthday, and I'm staying here."
"We could celebrate it before that."
"We are not human. We don't throw birthday parties."
"We live among them now, and some of their customs are worth adopting. Celebrating birthdays should be one of them."
She turned to look at him. He was watching the water, not her, and his profile was just as strikingly handsome as she knew it would be.
Secretly, she agreed with him, but she would never admit that.
After reading nearly a hundred silly romance novels depicting human lives, she admired their propensity to celebrate every little thing. Their lives weren't only about survival and honor like the lives of proper Kra-ell.
Humans just seemed to have more fun.
Now Pavel was suggesting that she celebrate her birthday, which she secretly wanted to do, and she didn't know how to respond to that.
"Why is my birthday so important to you?" she asked.
He looked at her. "I don't know. I just think we should celebrate life's milestones when we can. You and I are warriors, and in proper Kra-ell tradition, we might die in battle."
She chuckled. "You need to decide who you want to be when you grow up. You can be either a traditionalist or a progressive. You can't be both."
"Why not? Why can't we take the good parts of each?"
She opened her mouth to answer and then closed it. "I guess that's an option."
He smiled. "It must be my lucky day. You actually agreed with me for once."
"For once you made sense." She turned away from him and looked at the water again.
"So? Are we planning a party or not?" he asked.
"I'll think about it."
"That is more than I expected."
"I didn't say yes. I said I'll think about it."
"Fair enough."
The space between them on the rock had grown smaller somehow, but she didn't remember either of them moving.
Maybe she'd shifted toward him while looking at the water, or maybe he'd shifted toward her, or maybe the rock itself had compressed the space between them somehow.
The distance was no longer half a meter.
The distance was something closer to a hand's width, and his thigh and hers were close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off him through the fabric of their pants.
Drova did not move away.
She did not move toward Pavel either. She just stayed where she was, and the warmth between them intensified, and her heartbeat was suddenly faster than it had been a few minutes ago.
It was so damn embarrassing.
A proper Kra-ell female did not pine. A proper Kra-ell female did not wait.
Kra-ell females invited males to their bed, and in most cases the males accepted the invitation because to decline was considered a great offense, and given that males outnumbered females four to one, that almost never happened.