Page 91 of Sway's Peace
She hated this. She hated the creeping sense of inadequacy. The sickening feeling of knowing she’d never be good enough. That she was a failure. That she was so grossly imperfect. She’d been awash in nothing else the entire day and the toll was heavy on her.
She needed to run. To get away. But she knew if she did that, she would be an even greater failure. And unlike when she left Earth, she wouldhaveto return here and face the consequences of that choice. She couldn’t get away this time. She couldn’t-
The crowd of females around her parted, and through them, walking with the grace and confidence of a benevolent god come to release her from her prison, was Sway.
When did he change clothes?
Grace saw him earlier in the crowd, talking to his father in his jumpsuit. The two of them left together after that, and she had even been a little relieved. While she didn’t expect a paternalrelationship to bloom between those two after all this time, it would be nice if they could meet as friends, with affection. She was willing to tolerate all this if it meant Sway’s life got better.
Now, here he was. Approaching her again wearing farasie style clothes. And it wasn’t just the fact that he had changed clothes. It was in the way he wore them. He actually looked comfortable draped in the loose-fitting fabric. Maybe it was because it was darker now. Instead of white or bright, eye-catching patterns, the fabric was mostly gray with some simple chevron patterning on the hems. Instead of a reed belt, he wore his worn, black utility belt. Instead of sandals or bare feet, he was wearing his heavy, black boots. Like he’d matched the farasie style to the darker clothing he typically wore and found a more comfortable medium between the two. The result was a confidence in his gait she hadn’t seen before.
And his crest was up.
High and proud, not at all dissimilar to the other males around him. But, in her opinion, even better, brighter, than anyone else’s.
More than that, however, was his tail.
The long, elegant feathers were flared out for the first time. The gray, dark colors of his clothes only made the orange, yellow, and fuchsia seem brighter. They trailed behind him like a cape, fluttering gently in the movement of his steps.
And in his hands, on an elegant silver tray, was an array of treats. Fruits cut into simple shapes, circles and triangles and squares. Little sandwiches, veggie and meat both. Little piles of whipped cream – savory or sweet, she couldn’t tell at a glance.
Sway offered her a smile, and his hand.
“Are you hungry?” He asked, that rough, musical hum present in his voice even though he was only speaking. He didn’t sound like that before except when he was whistling.
It sent a thrill through her. Like pure honey poured into her ears. The stress, the despair, the overwhelming sense of inadequacy all seemed to fade away in the wake of that sound. She’d never heard anything so beautiful in her life.
Grace didn’t realize she had taken his hand until he was helping her stand. The others around her were smiling, but their faces were just colorful blurs in the background as he led her away from them. Each step they took from the crowd helped ease the pressure in her chest as she instead focused on Sway. On the soft smile on his face. On the warmth in his eyes.
He took her right back to their hotel. Up to her room. Then locked them inside. Or, probably more accurately, locked the rest of the world outside. The quiet, the isolation, was a relief as he led her by the hand to the table that was sitting in a bright alcove with tall, wide windows that looked out over the bay of the Song.
He set her down before placing the tray in front of her with a flourish. He began detailing his offerings. She wasn’t even paying attention to the food though. The delightful hum of his voice was hypnotic in the best way, stealing all the meaning from his words.
It must have shown on her face because, after a moment, he grinned before sitting down beside her. He grabbed her by the waist and, after checking her face to make sure she was okay with it, picked her up and brought her over onto his lap instead.
Grace was used to being around aliens at this point. She was accustomed to the fact that, as a human, she was smaller andweaker than basically everyone else. But it was still thrilling to feel the casual strength in his arms when he picked her up. One of her arms went around his neck. The other hand reached for his crest. She barely touched the soft feathers before focusing back on his face.
“Is this my mating meal?” She asked, her voice soft and breathy. Hopeful.
“Will you accept it if it is?”
Grace nodded quickly. Eagerly. “Yes. I do. I mean, I will. I… Do I sing for you now?”
Sway chuckled, one of his hands rubbing down her hip, her thigh. “Do you want to?”
“Will you accept it if I do?” She tossed the question back at him, heart fluttering rapidly in her chest, up in her throat. After spending the entire day being told how she wasn’t good enough, she was more desperate than ever for his affection and acceptance.
“I always want to hear you sing,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “I love the sound of your voice. Even when you’re talking, it’s like music.”
That close to her ear, his voice was even more powerful. The delicious, rumbling quality, the warmth of his breath, the vibration transmitted directly from his chest into hers. She shivered as she fought back a moan. He really spoke like that and calledhervoice musical?
“I spoke with my father,” he said, changing the subject as he leaned back so he could look her in the eyes.
“Was it a better conversation this time?” She asked, tilting her head as she looked him over carefully. He didn’t seem as bothered as he had after their uncomfortable dinner together.
“I think so,” he said, and he sounded almost hopeful as he looked back on the memories. “He’s actually not that bad. I thought he was pushy, but he was just trying to be welcoming. To remind me of who I am. Of what I am. This place…” He let out a long breath, looking out the window. “…it’s nice.”
Grace smiled, the last of her tension fading. She could put up with some discomfort if it meant bringing him peace. She leaned in close, snuggling into him. “It is nice. Peaceful.”
