Chapter 11
Jolie
The Peecha village was not what I expected.
Perhaps because they bore a striking resemblance to Earth’s primates—with their elongated limbs, expressive dark eyes, and thick fur that ranged from deep russet to silvery gray—I had imagined perhaps a collection of nests woven into the high branches or rudimentary shelters constructed of sticks and leaves.
What I didn’t expect was the intricate set of interconnecting caverns built into the side of the mountain, a feat of engineering that would have impressed even the most skilled human architects.
Each entrance featured a carefully sculpted overhang that naturally shielded it from the worst of the weather.
When the intricately woven vine curtains were drawn across the openings, the habitat was undetectable from even a few meters away.
Diarvet, Lilibet, and I were given two adjoining rooms on the ground floor, connected by a narrow archway. In part, no doubt, because Lilibet and I could not scale the smooth rock walls like the Peecha, who were natural climbers.
The rooms were spacious and surprisingly airy, the walls alive with swirling patterns caught the sunlight filtering through narrow slits in the ceiling, casting shifting patterns of soft, golden shadows.
Multiple hand-woven rugs covered the smooth stone floors.
Sleeping platforms carved from rock nestled against the walls covered by tightly woven grass mats and a pile of soft pelts.
Our quarters didn’t have the comforts of a private kitchen or bath like the treehouse.
We relied on communal spaces shared by the tribe, which fostered the close bonds I’d seen among the Peecha.
Every morning, the outdoor kitchen came alive with fires and bubbling pots.
Aromatic spices and herbs thickened the air as the tribe worked together to provide three hearty meals a day.
The bathing chamber lay below ground, fed by natural hot springs, with one chamber for males, one for females, and one for mated pairs.
So far, Lilibet and I had enjoyed the deliciously hot mineral pools in the female section.
But I couldn’t help my curiosity about the bathing chamber for mated pairs, especially when I caught Diarvet’s heated glances on my damp skin after my evening soaks.
The Peecha certainly treated us as a family.
Honestly, we acted like one. Diarvet, Lilibet, and I slept together every night.
Nothing could happen with Lilibet between us except smoldering glances and lingering touches, but my dreams were another matter entirely, and they left me aching and breathless every morning.
During the day, Diarvet hunted with the males.
I helped Ceeka organize her healing supplies, learning to forage medicinal plans and distinguish between leaves that could heal and those that could harm.
Numa has appointed herself Lilibet’s nanny and was at her side during the day while she played with other Peecha children.
I glanced up from grinding dried herbs to see Lilibet giggling as she placed another yellow flower in the messy braid she’d woven from Diarvet’s thick, blue hair.
He’d returned from the hunt earlier, dragging an enormous maramount with tusks longer than my arm.
Some of the tribe now prepared the creature for tonight’s feast, while Diarvet sat cross-legged in the soft grass beneath a massive tree being tended by a delighted Lilibet.
He seemed completely at ease, his posture relaxed as he let Lilibet braid his hair with infinite patience. Her joy was infectious, her high-pitched giggles dancing through the air. I caught the rumble of Diarvet’s deep laughter as well. A sound that seemed to vibrate through my bones.
My ovaries twitched, near bursting.
Ceeka made a low, chittering sound, summoning my attention.
The moment I met her gaze, she motioned with one long finger toward Lilibet, who had Diarvet’s blue hair looking like a wildflower meadow.
Then Ceeka crossed her arms over her chest in a deliberate gesture—the sign for love in American Sign Language.
Many gestures she and I used came from ASL.
I’d become fluent in my years as a nurse, and those hand shapes now served me in ways I’d never imagined. Her message was obvious. You love.
“Of course I love Lilibet,” I said, my voice catching slightly on the words. She might not be my blood—she might not even be my species—but Lilibet was my daughter in every way that mattered. I would have died to protect her the day the Wojonik attacked. Thanks to Diarvet, I didn’t have to.
Ceeka shook her head furiously, her thick russet fur rippling with the motion, one long furry finger pointing again. This time, there was no mistaking the direction she indicated.
Diarvet.
She made the love sign again, her movements slower this time, more deliberate, then planted her hands on her slender hips and fixed me with a stare that could have melted stone, waiting for an answer.
I felt heat spread across my face like wildfire.
My heart was hammering so hard that I was sure she could hear it.
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say no, but I couldn’t say yes either.
Not yet. I loved how he made me feel safe and cherished, like something precious worth protecting.
I loved how he was with Lilibet, affectionate, and gentle.
I loved lying in his arms at night, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his scales against my skin.
Still, I felt scared—terrified—of the vulnerability that came with wanting someone so much it made your bones ache.
My past with men wasn’t great.
I’d grown up wanting to be a nurse, yet as the daughter of blue-collar workers, coming up with the money for college wasn’t easy.
From an early age, I studied hard, knowing that education was my only way out.
I worked three summer jobs and did well enough in school to pay for most of my education with academic scholarships.
My hard work paid off with an offer from Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center upon graduation, the kind of position I’d dreamed about during those long, lonely nights of studying.
Then I met Dr. Asshole.
Dr. Rich Landers, to be precise. He was tall and handsome in that polished, expensive way that spoke of good breeding and better dental work.
So charming that even his clinical directions sounded like something Prince Charming would whisper in your ear.
My experience with men was limited to a college boyfriend who was more interested in video games than kissing, whose idea of romance was sharing his energy drinks during all-night gaming sessions.
I didn't find it surprising that he returned for our five-year reunion with his husband.
Rich made me feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet.
Trouble was, he made about a dozen other women feel the same way at the same time—including his wife.
By the time I learned the truth, it was too late.
Rich did what he always did to women who became inconvenient, who threatened his facade.
I left Sloan Kettering with my reputation in tatters.
Most coworkers believed I was the one who pursued him, to the point of stalking.
The restraining order painted me as an unhinged woman who couldn’t take no for an answer.
Thankfully, I ended up at St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital.
There, I slowly began to heal by caring for the brave, fierce children fighting for their lives on the oncology ward.
Children fighting for what Dr. Rich Landers took for granted—the simple ability to live another day, to see another sunrise, to laugh at silly jokes, and dream of a future that might never come.
Now here I was, in this impossible place with Diarvet, and my heart was doing things I’d sworn I’d never let it do again.
The way he looked at me wasn’t like Rich’s calculated charm or my college boyfriend’s distracted glances.
When Diarvet’s eyes met mine, those deep, blue orbs that seemed to hold starlight, I felt seen—really seen—in a way that both thrilled and terrified me.
His gentleness with Lilibet, his protectiveness, the quiet strength in everything he did, was nothing like the men I’d fallen for before.
That’s exactly what scared me.
What if I were wrong again? What if I was reading too much into stolen glances, into the way his breath caught when I accidentally brushed against him?
I’d trusted my instincts before and ended up humiliated and heartbroken.
The stakes felt significantly higher now, not just for me, but for Lilibet too.
We’d found something precious here, a family of sorts that felt more real than anything I’d ever known.
I couldn’t bear the thought of destroying it by wanting something that existed only in my imagination.
I came out of my reverie to find Ceeka gesturing again, more urgently now, a blue leaf clutched in one hand and an obsidian stone in the other, both objects catching the sunlight that danced through the trees.
It took me a minute, my mind still foggy with memories and fears, but I finally realized she was trying to say something about how Diarvet’s scales had shifted to black.
Something important, judging by her intensity.
I’ll admit, it was a lot to take in when I first saw Diarvet attack the Wojonik, his body transforming before my eyes into something both beautiful and terrifying.
He’d grown almost twice his normal size, muscles rippling, and his scales had shifted to a glossy obsidian black.
Yet the way he fought to protect us took the fear that had initially frozen me and turned it into something else.
Appreciation, yes, but something more. Something primal and deep that echoed in my bones.