Chapter 23
It may shock you to learn that a short, sequin covered, party dress is not good hiking wear.
The polyester lining was hot, the skirt kept riding up dangerously close to my butt, and the sequins had chafed my underarms raw.
I deeply regretted not changing into the gross mildewy clothes I’d found in the trailer.
A stranger's old pit stains would have been preferable to the constant scrape of sequins on my arms. The too big shoes I’d taken had given me blisters on my heels and ankles and felt like they weighed ten pounds each after a full day of walking.
At least now that the sun was down, it wasn’t so miserably hot, but I was struggling to keep up with Tovis.
Jiith had fallen a few hours ago and Tovis carried him for a few miles until he recovered enough to limp along on his own. We stopped for a snack and water but this time the syto didn’t magically recover like he had before.
“How much farther?” I asked quietly, watching as Jiith shivered and panted from his sprawl on the ground. We couldn’t rest long, staying ahead of the sytos was more important than our aching feet and worn out bodies, but I was seriously worried about Jiith.
“A few hours,” Tovis said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I’d released Sal from the makeshift baby carrier so he could take a potty break and the tiny percer was shuffling playfully around Jiith’s boots, pouncing and falling over while he tried to figure out his legs.
“He doesn’t look good,” I said quietly, hoping the syto couldn’t hear me. From the looks of his blank, glassy stare, all his energy was being used just to stay conscious, not eavesdrop.
“He may not recover,” Tovis agreed. “His ribs are broken, and he’s not used to traveling. Even if he makes it to camp...”
“It might not matter,” I guessed, feeling sick to my stomach at the idea that we’d dragged a mortally injured male for miles in the hot sun, possibly just making his last days more painful.
“I won’t leave him,” Tovis said.
“We’re not killing him,” I whispered harshly. “I know it's awful and selfish to put him through this, but he still has a chance.”
Tovis pulled my face to his chest and rubbed my sunburned arm. “You’re a good female, Jessa.”
I sighed, so tired I could cry at the knowledge we needed to get up and walk soon.
“You’re just saying that because I’m the only single female you know,” I muttered. He chuckled, even his laugh sounding tired and I pressed my cheek against him and savored the rumbling vibrations. I was pretty confident he liked me, but I was also certain he would have pursued any woman he met.
Any port in a storm and all that. Currently, he was the only reason I hadn’t given up completely, so I was trying not to let the idea trouble me.
“Does it bother you?” I wondered. “That you have to be with a human or be alone?”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged, wishing I'd kept my mouth shut. Now was not the time to be asking deep questions. I’d been hesitant when he’d declared I was his mate, we weren’t even the same species after all. But Tovis had never acted like it mattered.
Did he have the same thoughts, that the chance to be with a female of his own kind wasn’t an option, so he’d make do with what he found?
“I’m not a turoch,” I said. “I don’t look like your people, I don’t know your culture. You say I’m your mate, but that's just because I’m the only female available.”
He was quiet for a moment, his fingers stroking idle circles on my bare arm.
“Do you think I’d have claimed a cruel female like the Kwin?” he asked. “That if she was the only option I’d make do with her cold heart and accept all the suffering she’s caused? Simply to have another body in my bed?”
I closed my eyes, hating I’d made him sound so pathetic.
“No, I don’t think that,” I admitted. “But there’s a spectrum. Isn’t there? Levels between someone you’d want if you had all the choice in the world, someone you’d settle for, and someone you’d never ever accept?”
“I’m not settling for you,” he said firmly, his hand slid off my arm and I mourned the loss of contact. “Do not settle for me. When we find the camp, there will be many unmated males, if you find one you want more than me, I will renounce my ulto.”
My heart sank. I’d hurt his feelings. He’d come after me when I was taken, gotten captured, tortured for me, carried me when I couldn’t walk, held me when I was overwhelmed and I’d essentially told him I was only considering being with him because there wasn’t a ‘better option’.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, looking up at him. “I’m sorry I said it that way.”
Tovis’ normally smiling face was blank and closed off and I wished I could take back the last few minutes. I’d taken his good nature for granted and assumed that because he kept positive, he didn’t feel things too deeply. Clearly, a major error on my part.
“I want a mate,” he said. “I want a female of my own, to care for and talk to, and build a life with. But I don’t want just any female.”
He stood up before I could say anything and gathered up our supplies, caught Sal and handed him to me.
“We need to keep moving,” he said, brusquely. Jiith struggled up to his knees and stalled out, breathing hard and Tovis leaned down and scooped the other male up. Slinging him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, before turning to me.
I scrambled up, cradling Sal to my chest. It looked like we weren’t finishing this conversation until we were safe. Probably for the best, I needed to get my thoughts straightened out before I said something I really couldn’t take back.
*
When I spotted the orange glow of a fire in the distance I almost cried in relief.
Tovis had been carrying Jiith ever since we’d started walking again, hours ago.
The syto was slipping in and out of consciousness and between the tense silence between Tovis and I, my sore body and my worries that Jiith would up and die at any minute, I’d been pushed to my limits.
It didn’t even feel fair to have a private pity party, because at least half of the terrible situation was my fault. Tovis was stuck carrying a half dead syto because of me, things were awkward and uncomfortable because of me.
To top it all off, Sal had peed on me an hour ago, and percer urine was foul. I was tired, sweaty, my legs were locking up, and I stank so bad my eyes were watering.
“Is that it?” I panted, forcing myself to lift one foot in front of the other in a shuffling trudge that took actual mental effort to perform. If an army of sytos came out of nowhere right now, I couldn’t even attempt to run.
“It is.” I could hear the relief in Tovis’ voice and he picked up his pace, Jiith’s limp body swaying with his movements.
Ten minutes later, loud male voices sounded an alarm, and we were met by a dozen huge, red turochs wielding axes and machetes.
The sight of so many massive, threatening aliens stopped me in my tracks, and even when their faces broke into grins when they spotted Tovis, I couldn’t force my feet to move one inch farther.
This was it; I’d hit my wall. Sal let out a honking complaint and squirmed against my chest and I fumbled him out of the carrier I’d fashioned before he peed on me again. Tovis strode toward the turochs, calling out greetings and passing Jiith off to one of the big red guys.
I stood there, trapped by my exhausted body and the overwhelming sight of so many aliens. Sal honked again and I held him away from me just in time to miss another batch of pee.
Tovis must have noticed I was lagging because he turned around and spotted me standing there like a statue, holding a wriggling, dripping baby percer a foot from my chest. He strode back to me, his expression filled with worry.
“Jessa?”
I looked up at him but couldn’t seem to focus on his face as he neared me. The world was fuzzing around the edges and a big, ugly bubble of something was filling my throat. I didn’t know if I was going to pass out, throw up or cry.
“I-I can’t move,” I said, my voice sounding wobbly and weak to my own ears.
Tovis sighed, the hard set of his features fracturing just before he scooped me up and cradled my gross, pee covered body to his chest.
“It’s alright, we’re safe,” he whispered into my sweaty hair. I gulped in air, and started shaking, my vision blurring with tears as I fumbled to hold onto Sal.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “I don’t know what's wrong with me.” And then I burst into tears.