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I’m not. I want him to want me the way I want him. More than sex. More. I want him to know me, to desire me, not just my body. Tits, ass, and pussy are all great, but end of the day we’re all looking for more aren’t we?
Are we? Humans, sure. That’s what we all call the human experience or whatever, but he’s not human. He’s an Urr’ki. An alien. A freaking green, hunky alien.
I don’t know. I haven’t had much in the way of time or a chance to get to know him because there’s been one crisis then another. Every time we’re about to have a quiet moment the Maulavi come marching in. Assholes.
What if he’s not the one?
I chew on that because the thought won’t go away. It lingers like a bad odor that has soaked right into your skin. No matter how I try to scrub my thoughts clear, it’s right there waiting.
How do I know he’s the mystical, mythical one? This could all be nothing more than hormones. A reaction to stress and the very real, very imminent fear that I’m going to die. A horrible, painful death to boot. That kind of pressure is bound to do things to your head and your heart.
I must be crazy to be thinking any of this at all. It’s stupid. Nuts. Stop it.
But what if?
Ugh, My thoughts will not quit spinning. I stand up and pace the room. Again. He has to get back soon. Please, please, please. All other things aside I’d like to not be waiting here with all the evidence anyone would ever need to offer us both up as a sacrifice to the Shaman’s dark god.
Every time I reach a wall it happens again. What if? A million questions and scenarios plug into the after effect of it and every single one of them is negative. Some are downright terrible.
“That’s it,” I declare out loud. “I am not pursuing him. We handle this body, I gather what information I can, and I have Rosalind extract me at the first opportunity.”
Decision made I take a seat and wait.
31
BHOJA
My head snaps back. Pain blasts rational thought. I crash into a display. Items fall, banging into my head.
I roar, blindly leaping forward in a bull rush. I make contact, driving my shoulder into my assailant’s mid-riff. His breath wooshes out. I drive forward until we hit something solid. I pull back far enough to hit him in the face.
Another blow strikes the side of my head. I can’t see, but I will not stop. Niyah is waiting. I will not be taken quietly. I must return to her and get her out of the city.
People shout and I hear cries for the City Guard. That doesn’t make sense, though. If this is an agent of the Maulavi then the guard should already be on hand.
I land a blow but as I do my opponent's fist drives into my gut. I lose my air, doubling over in pain. A knee comes up under my chin. My head cracks back and I black out for an instant before regaining my senses and leaping to my feet.
“Rahr!” I roar, stumbling backwards.
Blows come fast and furious. I keep my arms up, protecting my head and chest. Blow after blow I block then I see an opening. I jab hard and fast. My opponent, who is only a blur as that is all I can see, stumbles.
I press the advantage. Moving in I jab fast, left, right, left, right. He brings his arms up to protect his head but I drop my jabs to his gut and body. He kicks me in my balls. I scream in agony but I cannot let anything stop me because Niyah is alone and waiting.
Struggling to stay upright I step back and now he is raining blows onto me. I shift, dodge, block but still some get through. My world is being rocked. If not for her I’d give up. But she is alone and that thought alone fuels my rage.
I throw all caution and reason to the side. I am fighting for her. Roaring I drop my guard and open myself up to his blows as I swing wide and wild. I am going to take him out now.
Something white and brown jumps in front of my fist. It’s too small, not my opponent. I stop my fist an instant before it connects.
“Stop!” a female voice screams in Urr’ki. “Stop.”
Confusion cuts through my rage and the fear of what is happening to Niyah. I step back, raising my arms up into a protective position. When nothing hits me I rub my eyes and shake my head trying to clear my vision.
The white and brown figure swims into focus. Annalise. She has her arms outstretched, one open hand in front of me. I blink again but can’t get my eyes to focus enough to see anyone else but her.
“Stop,” she says again.
“I have,” I say.
