Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
When I blink into consciousness as the lights turn on, X is already awake and in his human form once more. He is still as cuddly as before, immediately pulling me against him and resting his chin on my shoulder.
After last night, I don’t find it quite so uncomfortable.
As far as I can tell, he’s doing it out of a genuine desire for contact and warmth, nothing more sinister than that.
And when I think about what he said last night, in that apologetic tone—it has been a long time since I have felt warmth, or closeness—I feel a pang of sympathy.
It’s probably been a long time since he felt anything pleasant at all, trapped in this cold room, with the scientists treating him like a lab specimen.
If I can provide some comfort so easily, why not?
Truth be told, it’s been a long time since I had someone to cuddle, too.
And now that I know he doesn’t expect anything more to come of it, I actually find it rather enjoyable.
The room is chilly for me, too. So after a moment’s hesitation, I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, nuzzling against his chest. He lets out a low, pleased sound in his throat, almost like a purr.
“Does your kind embrace like this?” I ask, and squeeze him for emphasis. “Embrace. Cuddle.”
“Yes,” he says. “But we are not so warm. This is very good.”
I smile with my face hidden against his shoulder. “I’m glad.”
We cuddle like that for a while, enjoying the simple comfort of physical touch.
But we both sit up as the cell echoes with a metallic clank.
X is instantly on alert, and I realize a moment later it must’ve been the metal slot on the door.
The scientists pushed something through.
My heart surges; perhaps they brought him a sufficient meal like I asked for.
I don’t want to be between him and a meal when he’s this hungry.
I sit up, fingers searching until I find the button that opens the glass covering.
I’m about to slide off the tall bed and drop to the floor, but X lets out a little rumble of warning.
He scoops me up, one-handed like before, and sets me carefully on the tile.
It’s unnecessary, but…sweet.
“Thank you,” I murmur, glancing up at him.
He nudges me toward a corner of the cell. “Stay,” he says. “In case of danger.”
Danger? I hadn’t considered that. But I obediently retreat against the wall and watch as X approaches the cell door and the metal box that fell through the slot.
It’s obviously too small to be the suitable prey I requested for him. X leans over the box, sniffing, before crouching down to remove something. He studies it for a moment before straightening and returning to me, holding it out: a slip of paper.
My brow furrows. I take it, turn it over, and find a scrawl of pen waiting: Find out more about subject’s home planet and we will free you.
I stare at it, incredulous, before looking up at X. He’s staring down at the paper, head tilted quizzically.
“What is this?” he asks.
“It’s language. Written language. You haven’t seen this?” I hold the paper up for him to inspect. The last thing I want is for him to believe I’m hiding something.
He shakes his head. “Mulford tried to teach me, but it was very hard. My kind do not have this.”
“I see.”
“Why do the scientists use this instead of speaking?”
“I’m not sure,” I lie, without daring a glance toward the mirror.
Anger is a cold pit in my stomach. They’re offering me a deal behind X’s back?
I hate the thought of cooperating with them, but what choice do I have?
I swallow hard and realize X is still staring at me.
There’s no suspicion in his gaze, just curiosity.
“I think they’re afraid they might offend you,” I say slowly, opting for half of the truth.
“Why? What do they say?”
“They want for me to find out more about you and your people,” I say. “But they know you are reluctant to talk in front of them.”
X muses over this, his eyes flicking to the mirror and back to mine. “You wish to know about this, as well?”
Guilt squirms in my stomach. “It would make me happy to learn more about you,” I say, “since I am your…taujak.”
His pupils blow wide at the word. He stares at me with an expression I’ve never seen before, and I fear for a moment that I’ve overstepped.
Then he murmurs, “Say that again.”
“Taujak.”
He lets out a pleased rumble in his chest, almost a purring sound, and steps closer to me. He reaches for my hip before seeming to remember my request for personal space, and falters.
“One more time,” he says, almost begging.
“I’m your taujak,” I say softly, only for his ears. “Then,” I venture, “should I not know more about your people and your home?”
After a moment, he nods. “Sit with me,” he says. “I will tell you anything.”
X speaks for a long time, giving me further details about where he comes from and what his life there was like.
I find myself enraptured by his tales of the twin suns that keep his planet lit for much longer than Earth has daylight, and the brief, cold nights in which his clan huddles together for warmth.
No wonder he enjoyed our cuddling so much; it must have reminded him of being home with his family and friends.
He speaks of intense seasons. Hot, dry summers and bitterly cold winters, during which his kind go into hibernation. Low temperatures must activate it automatically, a feature that the scientists here have been taking advantage of.
“And you were a warrior?” I ask. His eyes narrow, and I quickly correct, “You are a warrior.” He nods, his jaw set in a proud line. “Were you trained since you were very young? How does it work in your clan?”
“All are trained to work, to fight, and to hunt,” he says. “But I was not called warrior until I showed my strength to the clan.”
I lean forward, hands on my folded legs, unabashedly curious. “How did you do that?”
“Enemies came to us at night,” he says. “One tried to steal my sister away. There are many fights over females, and many are stolen like this, but I did not wish this for my sister. I fought bravely and killed him to save her, though he was much bigger than I.”
I find myself smiling. “You do sound very brave. And honorable.”
He lets out a low, pleased rumble that’s almost a purr.
I wish I could have seen X in his own element. What a sight he must have been, free on his own planet instead of trapped alone in this room, experimented on by scientists who view him as little more than an animal.
And I like how fierce he is. How far he went to defend his loved ones. So very different than the cowardly scientists behind the glass, who were so eager to sacrifice me and send others to do their dirty work. It makes me wonder how far X might go for me, if I play my cards right…
“So how did you end up here?”
X tenses, eyes flickering. “I…do not remember well,” he says haltingly.
“My home planet was colder and colder, and would not warm again. There was little food and water.” He pauses for a long time.
I stay silent, waiting, letting him decide if he wants to tell me more.
“I was one of many warriors my people sent into the sky, that some of us may survive. It is what we have done for many, many, many generations. We…” He presses his hands together and then spreads them apart widely.
“You migrate,” I suggest. “You disperse. Spread out.”
He nods. “We find new planets. If there is life, we use these”—he gestures at his face—“false forms, if needed. It is how we survive.”
“But how did you end up here?” I press.
He frowns. “I do not know. I think, maybe…” He forms a flat surface with one hand and a fist with the other, thumping it against his palm.
“You crashed here?”
“Maybe, maybe. No memory.” He shakes his head.
“I do not know how far from home this is. Or how much time has passed…” His jaw clenches in frustration.
His shirt ripples oddly. Tentacles stirring beneath it as his false form falters, I suspect.
Swallowing back nerves, I reach out and take his hand. He stills, expression smoothing over.
“It must be lonely, to be alone so far from home,” I say.
He looks up at me, an odd intensity in his eyes. “It was. No more. Taujak is most important. More important than home.”
My gaze darts away from his, guilt churning in my stomach. It’s becoming more and more obvious that his feelings toward me are intense, though I don’t understand why. Meanwhile, I’m using him in hopes of escaping. “If talking about your home distresses you, we don’t have to keep going,” I say.
“It does not,” he says. “It is good to talk of it. To remember.”
I take a deep breath and steady myself. Push down the guilt. “Then tell me more.”
X continues talking for hours, readily giving me any information I ask for. I am so immersed in his stories of home that it makes me itch to have a pen and paper so I can record all of this information. But of course, the scientists behind the mirror are surely doing exactly that right now.
The reminder gives me a bit of a jolt. I had almost managed to forget that X and I are being watched, and that I’m doing this at the scientists’ behest in the hope of being freed.
Yet as night approaches again, there is still no sign of an attempt to free me, despite my cooperation. Nor is there a food delivery. There’s a bitter churning in my stomach at the realization…and a flash of fear as I remember how long it’s been since X has eaten.
He seemed energized by the stories he was telling me, new life in his eyes as he made expansive hand gestures and spoke of his glory days back on his home planet.
But as our conversation dwindles to a close, his shoulders slump, and the dullness is back in his eyes.
He’s getting weaker still. And he must be so very hungry.
I’m hungry, too, after more than a full day without food. I can only imagine how he feels.