Page 38 of The Erion Triad

“That sounds exotic,” Kira said.

Lucie glanced up as Kyel, Juliran, and Zaen approached her with flowers of their own. She ducked her head, but now that she was an observer, she’d missed the disappointment on their faces. They’d wanted to please her so badly and she’d shied away and missed their true intentions.

Maybe if she’d lifted her head, she would have seen their happy faces and it might have drowned out the voice. But in that moment the voice had stolen her entire attention and she’d retreated into herself, only offering a timid glance and tentative look before she’d walked away.

The scene faded. “See how thoughtful you are, Lucie. Even when you’re crying inside you made our sister smile and laugh.”

“That’s easy to do. Kira is a lovely woman, who smiles and laughs with everyone,” Lucie said.

“But her smiles and laughter as especially quick when you’re around,” Zaen said.

Lucie clenched her teeth hard enough to make her jaw hurt. “What you’re showing me is irrelevant. Please… just stop. You’re making this harder than it should be.”

“Anything worth it is hard. We can keep on showing you what we see in you. What we knew to be true. Watch,” Kyel said.

“It’s not going to make any difference. It won’t change anything…”

She knew where Kyel had taken her as soon as the white faded to reveal the medi-bay in their warship. That day would be etched in her mind until she died. She’d woken to a world of white mist trapped inside a coffin. She’d slapped her hands against a slippery surface that had immediately retracted.

The mist cleared and three concerned faces had stared down at her, blue skin that ranged in tone from light blue to midnight. Each had dark hair with green-blue highlights. One was short cropped all over. One had tight curls that clung to his scalp, and the last had short back and sides with a fringe that flopped over his right eye. All their eyes glowed with an unearthly inner green-blue light.

They had lips that looked soft and sensuous and entirely kissable, but their most prominent features were horns that emerged from their temples and curved around the sides of their heads. Crop hair had horns that tipped up at the ends. Tight curls’ horns curved around the sides of his head, and fringe’s horns had a kink that gave him a carefree air, if horns that grew from male heads could ever be described as carefree.

“Mate…” The being with tight curls spoke.

She touched her fingers to her ears. They hung there suspended for a moment, “I can… understand you?”

“Isn’t the translator working?” Crop hair asked.

“I told you not to install it while she was healing,” Fringe said.

“I only wanted to do it to save her pain. She’s been through so much…” Tight curls gave her a look so mournful it brought tears to her eyes.

“Now you’re making her cry,” Fringe said.

“That’s it. Take it out and we’ll do it later, when she’s stronger. I don’t want to put her under any more stress than she’s already been through,” Crop said.

She held her hands out, palms towards them. “No! No, no, no. I… I’m not in any pain. In fact…” She catalogued her body. “I… I’m not in any pain. At all.” A look of wonder flickered across her face. She didn’t realize she was so expressive.

“That is good, mate,” Fringe said.

“Did you… did you heal me?” Her eyes grew large and round and began to fill with unshed tears.

“We did,” Crop said.

She curled her fingers around his wrist. His eyes widened and he went so still he might have been a statue. A tear streaked down the side of her face to disappear into her hairline and he moved so slowly and so tenderly to wipe it away.

“We will do everything in our power to make sure you never cry again,” he said.

Tight curls threaded a strand of hair from her face. “We only want to see tears of joy fall from your beautiful eyes.”

“For you, mate. We will do anything,” Fringe said.

She frowned. “Why do you keep on calling me that name? My name is Lucie.”

“Which name do you mean?” Crop said.

She still had her fingers curled around his wrist and he stroked her skin with the pad of his thumb, little concentric circles that she was finding harder and harder to ignore. She didn’t want to take her hand away. Didn’t want him to stop. Didn’t wonder why she felt an immediate attraction, an immediate connection to him.

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