Page 11 of Sky Song
The illustration - or was it a photograph? - in the center of the page depicted a deformed… creature. It could’ve been a very sick, very misshapen human. Or it could’ve been an armadillo. Without reading the text, Cricket was hesitant to make any assumptions.
“Must be recessive genes,” she allowed.
Lyle cocked his head, quizzical. “Someone needs to check hormone levels in their meat. I blame that.”
He snapped the tome closed as Cricket giggled.
Her hand flew to cover her mouth. She hadgiggledlike a schoolgirl at a joke shared with analienlike they were friends or something. Not just any alien, but a Rix alien, a fierce male of a violent nation that despised all others. Someone of Simon’s ilk.
With wide eyes Cricket studied Lyle as he replaced the tome back in its place on the shelf. Granted, she’d never met Simon, but she could picture him so clearly in her mind. And Lyle was as far from that picture as Earth was from Meeus.
There was no hint of danger swirling about this Rix like Cricket was certain there was about Simon. On the contrary, Lyle had something gentle, boyish about him, the impression no doubt the result of his appearance. His beautiful tawny hair,cut in a blunt style, was parted in the middle and grazed his shoulders. He had a full-cheeked face with a perfectly pouty mouth that would’ve been too cute if not for an ugly deep scar that marred his upper lip. His heavy, rounded body brought to mind cuddles and hugs. And that lazy blink of the eyes as black as the fabric of the Universe…
“So, what’s your conclusion?” He’d long ago finished putting away the book and was watching her staring at him.
“Sorry.”
“No, tell me. I want to know.”
“You’re different, in a good way.”
“You’re polite.”
“I hope so.”
“But not truthful.”
Cricket chuckled. “What did you think I’d say?”
His eyes twinkled. “How about you say what you think? You looked very serious. Do I remind you of someone?”
“Not exactly.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” And why not tell him the truth? They were companions for only this one moment in time. “I’ve heard stories from someone who’s met a Rix defender, and you’re not what I imagined a Rix looks like. That’s the truth.”
A twitch of the fine eyebrows was all the facial expression Cricket got. “A Rix defender, eh? Out of curiosity, what did you expect?”
“Honestly?”
“Of course.”
“I guess I expected a four hundred-pound, six feet seven inches-tall saber-toothed hulk with biceps the size of my thighs whose head would make a jumbo hard hat look two sizes too small.”
He remained silent, and it was impossible to tell where his uniformly black eyes were trained at.
Cricket sighed. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“You have skinny thighs.”
“Emma, we’re leaving! Please don’t fall behind.”
They both turned to see Dr. Nura and the group moving farther down the archives. Cricket promptly followed, and Lyle fell into step behind her.
“I heard her say your name, Emma.” Lyle said.
“Yes, she did call me by my name.”
