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“Assimilated…” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”
“It took a lot of data collection to understand the basics of your languages and culture. We assigned two strike, two earth, and two water blessed to assimilate information before we came, and they then shared that with me. I distributed it to the others.”
She’s blinking quickly as she looks at me. Then she sits on a chair, her lip shaking a little. “And your assimilated information hasn’t given you any information on the connection between kissing and mating?”
“Mating is the creation of offspring—for us, the reproduction cycle begins with the laying of eggs. For you, it’s squalling miniature humans. Yes?” Now I start pacing. She’s clearly a bad influence on me. “We gained that information, that your young take a similar time to grow as one of our eggs, and that there are no eggs involved. The details surrounding that weren’t something we cared to study further.”
“What exactly did you study, then?”
“Human patterns and behavior when scared. Human methods of hiding and concealing information. Successful human interrogation techniques.”
“You studied our pop culture to figure out how to interrogate us?” Her lip’s twitching again. She’s amused. “And you discovered what exactly?”
“Humans are selfish, cruel, and fear motivated.”
She snorts. “You may not have gone about it the best way, but I can’t argue with any of that.” She steps out in front of me, interrupting my pacing, and I have to pull up short to avoid running her over. “But Axel, more even than fear, humans are inspired by love.”
Something weird happens inside my chest when she says ‘inspired by love,’ like someone’s pulling on my insides or something. I feel twisted up and dizzy and like I’m falling at the same time. “What does that mean exactly, inspired by love?”
“You said we’re motivated by fear, and that’s true. When we’re afraid of something, we’ll do all sorts of things to avoid it and to keep ourselves safe.”
“Right.” I nod.
“But.” She places one hand, palm flat, against my chest. I have that same, strange, wrenching kind of twisting feeling again, only stronger now that she’s touching me. “Humans do their best work, their most inspired work, their truly heroic work when they want to help someone they love.”
“Love.” I nod. “Fine. If you won’t teach me to kiss, then teach me to love instead.”
She almost looks sad, for some reason.
“What? Is that forbidden too?”
“It’s a bad idea.” Her lips twist, and I want to press mine against them again. I know that kissing was somehow a part of our synchronization when we entwined, and that probably makes it a risk. The last thing we need is to mutate our bond further.
But that thought gives me an idea. Maybe the kissing—even tied to mating though it is for humans in some inexplicable way—will bring us closer, and therefore allow us more space, not less?
Why didn’t I think of that before?
Ignoring her earlier prohibition entirely, I move toward her as quickly as I can, and I press my lips to hers. The first few times, I had no idea what to expect. This time, I have a lot of expectations.
Her mouth is just as soft as I knew it would be, her little sigh even more satisfying. I’m reaching my hands out for her hips to draw her closer when something unexpected hits me.
Literally.
Her hand, palm still flat, strikes the center of my chest with enough force to knock me backward, my chin lifting as my head falls back.
It frigging hurts, which it really shouldn’t. Any blow she can inflict is nothing to me, but for some reason, this causes pain. Something deep inside of me roars to life, and I advance, ready to conquer this rebellious creature in front of me. I smell her small spike of perspiration, and I’m drawn even more inexorably forward.
She ducks away, racing around corners and around doorframes until she shoots behind a bedroom door and closes it.
“Elizabeth,” I whisper. “You were the one who started the violence. Come out and talk to me.” Why do I enjoy stalking her so much? Why is this so entertaining?
“No,” she whispers. “Stay away.”
“We’re not done. . .talking.” I can’t help my smile. Closing in on her at last is always the best part.
“Yes, we are. We’re done talking. We’re done kissing. We’re just done.”
“No.” I tap on the door one more time, but remaining polite isn’t easy. “Open up.”
