Page 25 of Humans Don't Have Horns
“You make a good coffee.” It comes out a bit too out of breath under his gaze.
“I don’t know about that. I do know what coffee is worth stealing though,” he teases. Goddess, he is so appealing like this. With that beautiful smile and those delicate lines dancing around his eyes. “Come on, we have a long ride today,” he says as he begins packing our things. “Not until I finish my cup of coffee,” I growl at him.
Chapter Twelve
Lian
The days and nights pass quickly. Too quickly.
Although we ride at a grueling pace and I feel stiff from the long ride each day, I can feel my body getting stronger, recovering finally from the Nimatek and being held captive and restrained for all these years.
I learn how to start a fire with just rocks and to skin a ravab. I can never decide if a ravab looks more like a rabbit or a rat. From the long ears to the long tail and snout, it kind of reminds me of both, which makes it even more unsettling to look at.
I learn how to brew my own coffee and build traps for small animals. I’m not even a complete embarrassment during combat now. Running away from danger still seems like the better option. But one time, I almost make Daton stumble, which makes me grin the entire day.
Each night, Daton and I sleep together in the same sleeping bag. It’s platonic in a way. We haven’t kissed again since that first kiss. We lie in the sleeping bag. I soak in his warmth and scent. He tells me Mongan legends. Most of them are of the Goddess and her children—the stars. His voice is soft, and I can feel its ripples all the way to my core. OK, maybe platonic is not the right word.
Daton says I am a terrible listener, for I often stop his storytelling to ask questions and demand clarifications. Still, he never stops telling them, as his fingers trail on my body, drawing circles on my arms and my back. But never more.
I said I needed time, and he gives it to me, although time is really in short supply. The demichads are coming, yet here we are night after night, lazily indulging in each other’s company.
I stare into his eyes and wonder how I could ever have thought them to be obsidian black. There is light in them as if the night sky itself lies inside him. As if galaxies hide there. “How do you say ‘eyes’ in Mongan?” I blurt out, trying to break his mesmerizing stare.
“Nimp,” he answers.
“Nimp,” I repeat after him, testing the sound of it.
Then his fingers graze my eyebrow ever so gently. “Baga.”
“Baga,” I repeat, out of breath. My body is too responsive to his touch. It’s wonderful and awful at the same time.
“Chilk.” His fingers move to brush my cheek.
“Chilk,” I gasp.
“Zoen.” He shifts a strand of my hair and exposes my ear.
“Zoen.” I swallow.
“Noke.” His lips barely touch my earlobe, and his breath caresses me. “Ravas.” His lips move to my neck, and I shut my eyes as I feel the tension building in my core. He barely touches me, but I’m burning with sudden desire. What would happen if he actually touched me? Not only teased. Would I freeze again? Would it be too much? “You’re not repeating the words.”
“Hmm?” I can feel his smile against my neck.
“You’ve stopped repeating the words,” he snickers, far too pleased with himself.
I open my eyes, finally awakened from the daze he put me in. When did my hand grab his shirt? When did my leg wrap around his thigh? I can feel how hard he is against my center, and his breaths are heavy, but he stays still, his face unreadable. I watch him, confused. Puzzled by the way my body reacts to him. What would happen if hedidn’t stop? Would I stop him? Is that why he hesitates, fearing to overwhelm me? I’m sure that is it. The evidence of his lust is still pressed to me. It’s sweet torture. I hope he finds sweetness in the torture as well.
I realize now that there was never a need to fear him. He would never have harmed me that way—other ways, maybe—but never this way. But then, knowing you shouldn’t fear something and not fearing it are two completely different things, are they not?
Daton props his head on his arm as he watches me for a long moment, then he says, “You should go to sleep,” and kisses my forehead. We never talk about what will happen after we reach the Mountains of Doom. I’m too afraid to address it. I’m too confused as to what I even want to happen between us. This right here is so perfect, like a dream. But all dreams come to an end. And the reality of Amada is more a nightmare than a dream. I fall asleep that night with an ominous heaviness.
***
We are close to the Land of the Outlaws now. Only three days left until we get there. We have seen no Mongan on our travels so far. We have seen no one since my sister went back to Renya. Have the demichads started their attack already? Are we too late?
The tips of the Mountains of Doom can be seen from here, and they make me uneasy. Arriving at the Land of the Outlaws fills me with apprehension. I can no longer pretend there is no Amada, that there is only Daton and me.
The sun is cruel here, up in the mountains. My mouth is dry, no matter how much water I drink. I’m sweaty and hot. Daton is doing no better. His dark hair is slick with sweat and sticks to his brow, and his once-white shirt clings to his muscles. At noon we arrive at a small waterfall surrounded by steep red cliffs. There is no shade on the banks. After making sure the mares have enough to drink, Daton grunts, “I can’t bear this beard with this heat,” and he hands me his knife.
