She understands, and I squeeze her again to thank her for her caution. But even though I regulate my breathing and trade smiles with her, keeping my skin a careful green to match our surroundings, a storm rages beneath my camouflage as I eavesdrop on Saana’s conversation. My pigment clashes in its channels, anger and fear warring for space. Keeping it from the surface is arduous, but if I let it go...I’m not sure I canhold myself back.
It's a warrior, not a messenger. He’s looking for me. Someone saw me take Rose from the circus. Someone else reported me leaving the cliffs with a foreign female in my arms. The priests suspect she is a spy, that I may be plotting with a foreign power. They sent warriors into the grass to find us both.
They must be panicking if they’re already trying to discredit me—and her.
I do not fear they will take her from me. I fear how many I kill to keep her safe. And I am angry that it’s come to this. Angry that I have to hide her when she should be worshipped. Angry that she has to cower when she should be wearing a crown.
If the priests truly loved the goddess, they’d fall at my Alara’s feet regardless of her species. They’d welcome her and learn her ways. If my brother truly loved his brother, he’d defend me against their lies. I want to punish themall.
A growl slips out of me. Rose stretches to place two fingers against my lips, reminding me to be quiet, and it’s like something snaps. Maybe it’s the scent of her skin so close to my nares, but the bond between us tightens, knotting us together.
She ismine.
Not the goddess’s. Not Irra’s. Mine. And I will keep her safe above all else.
I pull her into my lap, folding her in my arms, and find her quivering in fear.
This time I press my lips to her lips, trying to communicate everything with my kiss. We can’t speak aloud, but I can say this:Give me your fear. Give me your pain. Let me hold you until the danger is gone.
Chapter 9
Rose
Ithink these might be our last moments together, here in the middle of this field. The way Oljin’s kissing me is like a goodbye, like he might never have the chance again.
Is he going to leave me here? Or will he turn me over to whoever has come, whoever prompted him carry me off into the eight-foot-tall grass so urgently. It has to be the lizard aliens who held me captive for so long.
My body panics at the thought of being caged again, my heart racing even faster than it was already. I can’t go back. I can’t. I’ll die first.
I want to ask him how they found me, why they came. But any sound might draw them to us, so I wrap my weak arms around him and lose myself to our last kiss.
He kisses like a demon, long-tongued and sharp-toothed. Like the things they warned me against in Sunday school, and now I understand why. Because this—his hands, his claws in my hair, his lips on mine, his strong arms cradling me like I’m weightless—this feels like heaven.
Sweet. Addictive. Consuming.
The sun warms the top of my shoulders and the vague shapes of the grasses around us sway in the warm wind. Their rustling music drowns out the soft pant of my breath. I never want this to end. The memory of it could get me through another year or two in the cage, I think.
He kisses down my neck, licking the salt off my skin and raising goosebumps along his path. Pointed teeth skim over my collarbone, one shoulder. I arch into his touch, desperate for him to understand me.
Yes. I want this. I want whatever I can have, whatever I can hoard. Every touch from you is a gift. A treasure they can’t take away.
Tears slide down my cheeks. He must feel them because he draws back. Kisses them away. Strokes my hair like an apology, like he did something wrong when he’s the only right thing in the galaxy.
I grab his face and pull it back to mine. This can’t be over. I’m not ready to give up.
“Alara,” he whisper-groans against my mouth. My nails dig into the back of his neck, and I bite his lower lip to remind him to be quiet, that silence is our only defense.
Something in him snaps. I can tell because his whole body, which has been mostly shades of green, flushes light purple. The color of a sunset when it’s tipping over into dusk. Then he buries his face into the curve between my neck and shoulder, clamping his teeth over the muscle there. Holding me.
He doesn’t break the skin, but I can tell he wants to. His chest is heaving against me, his fingers squeezing into my flesh, begging for permission.
For some reason, I’m not afraid. I’m not worried that it will hurt. If anything, I understand his desperation to have a little more of me, to leave his mark before we’re torn apart. He needs this, and it’s something I can give him. One of the very few things.
I stroke the back of his muscled neck, then tap twice.Do it.
His teeth slide into my flesh so easily that I barely feel them. I didn’t know they were so sharp. He’s been taking more care with me than I realized.
He quickly releases me, licking over the small wound, fussing silently like I skinned my knee. His tender care makes my tears stream even faster. This means something to him. He’ll never forget me, at the very least.
