Page 38 of Abalim

“We are honored you are comfortable enough to confide in us,” Abalim reassured her. “All families have their disagreements. But with love, we can guide them to a better way of thinking.”

Nyvira beamed. “You are so correct!” She glanced at Tharion and her eyes softened. “My love tells me this all the time.” She clasped her mate's hand in hers. “Let’s leave our worries behind and partake of the end meal celebration!”

Sitting on a woven mat, Abalim crossed his legs at his ankles and leaned on his hands. He let his head drop back and admired the illumination of the night sky covered with a million stars. Their light spanned the universe like a blanket of diamond dust that stretched out to eternity. It was as if the universe gave him a teasing glimpse of its secrets. Next to him was Lisa, who quietly chatting with Nyvira next to her at the end meal feast.

“Are you okay back there, JR15?” His bot had recharged earlier and flown back to his favorite place at the nape of Abalim’s neck.

“Yes, Mister Abalim, sir.”

“Have your brothers contacted you yet? Are they all okay?”

The little bot traveled with a light touch to rest just below the side of Abalim’s jaw. “Yes, Mister Abalim, sir. They are all well but have expressed different frustrations about their respective challenges.”

Abalim snorted. Good. At least he wasn’t the only one frustrated. He’d much rather grab Lisa and teleport back to theGalactic Serpentand leave this stupid trial behind. The whole thing brought back bad memories of the extreme so-called trials the Akurns performed on him and his brothers when they’d been enslaved. He’d rather have nothing to do with all of this.

He glanced at his bot companion. “Schedule yourself to check in with them again by next cycle.”

JR15 gave his usual consent and bent his knees to rest his torso on Abalim’s shoulder. The suit Abalim wore camouflaged the little guy nicely from the Lumarians.

With JR15 settled, Abalim glanced at the raging fire the Lumarians sat around, eating and laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

The large bonfire blazed in the middle of the village square as each Lumarian either cooked the food, served it, or went around making sure all had what they needed. It was obvious the aliens carried a deep connection between nature and each other. Adding to the ambiance were the twinkling fire lanterns hanging from the treetops, casting a soft illumination over the gathering, giving off a warm, ethereal glow reflected on the joyous faces.

With a deep breath, Abalim relished the tantalizing scents of roasted meats and exotic herbs. The intoxicating blend blanketed the warm night.

As the hours passed, the stars continued their silent dance above.

Abalim grew more comfortable with Lisa next to him as they ate and talked about nothing in general. Any awkwardness between them faded into a shared sense of wonder and curiosity about their respective cultures. He was fascinated by her being an author. She explained what that meant to her and how she made a living from it. How astounding was it she received money from creating fiction for entertainment? Money. What a strange concept. When he and his brothers first learned of it, it’d been a hard concept to grasp, especially coming from seven thousand years in the past and being raised as a slave for the Akurns, when gold was mined for their planet’s shield, not used as a barter system.

He shared how distasteful he found that some humans went to unfathomable greedy lengths to get more than their fair share of currency. No matter how it affected or hurt others. And what was worse, how disgustingly common it was for them to kill for it.

By the time the conversation between him and Lisa got around to him, he hesitated. His face heated as he talked about his beginnings. Would she think less of him because he was created by the Akurns and not born of a natural mother and father? His unease dissipated when her eyes widened, and her breath quickened when he confessed who and what he really was.

“You mean you’re part alien?” She put her hand over her heart.

“That’s all you got out of what I just told you?” Abalim couldn’t help the grin. “Here I divulge I wasn’t born but created over seven thousand years ago as a slave. Not to mention I am a powerful psychic with abilities that include telekinesis.”

“Yeah—” Lisa leaned toward him. “—but you’re analien!” The heartbeat at the base of her throat pounded. “How freaking sexy is that?” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

Abalim burst out laughing at the mortified twist of her lips. Her adorable features looked luscious in that rosy shade of blush flickering in the firelight.

“Hey!” She admonished him with a light slap to his upper arm. “I make a living writing about hunky, gorgeous aliens, and here I am sitting right next to one!”

His eyelids lowered as he brought his lips close to her ear. He smiled as she shivered. “You think I’m gorgeous?” No one had ever said anything like that to him before. But then, he’d never thought about his looks. Now every part of his body shifted from comfortably warm to burning hot. How he could be overheating with all his blood pooling in his groin was anyone’s guess.

“Oh look! They’re dancing.” Lisa pointed to the group of Lumarians holding hands in a circle around the bonfire. “Let’s go join them.” She jumped up and grabbed his hand.

Ah, now who was deflecting? Too late for her to take back her confession.

He clasped her hand in a firm grip and unfolded himself to join her in the gyrating crowd of Lumarians. He hadn’t paid attention to what was happening around him until Lisa pulled him up. Cocking his head, he reflected that he’d never heard sounds like the Lumarians created.

The air pulsated with a strange, rhythmic vibration.

His eyes widened as the primal beats of the drums echoed into his very bones. The language of the music spoke to his soul. Added to the beats were lutes and string instruments, weaving painted melodies of unseen pictures with their notes. Each pluck, each beat, was like a drop of color splashing onto the blank canvas of his mind. It awoke a deep, almost primal part of himself he never knew existed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the villagers move in sync with the rhythm. He’d never seen anyone dance before. But he only had eyes for Lisa. She didn’t have any trouble fitting in, moving with a fluid grace, keeping time with the lilting sounds of flutes and drums thumping in the background.

Abalim stood there, mesmerized by her feminine form.

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