Page 4 of Vylit: Glowing for Her
Some choice.
I grabbed his hand. "Let's go."
His fingers closed around mine, warm and surprisingly gentle. The patterns across his skin surged with renewed brightness, hope and relief radiating from him in literal waves of light.
Together, we stepped toward the failing portal, the gateway between worlds and whatever lay beyond.
CHAPTER 2
VYLIT
We crashed through the edge of nothingness and slammed into the warmth of my skiff. I locked my arms around her, the force of translation hurling us in a tangle to the center of the warming chamber. I didn’t let go. Nothing in this world or any other could make me. Even as the shockwave rolled over us and the Gate behind spat out a last shriek before sealing shut, my arms clung to her as my bones vibrated with the need to keep her from phasing back out.
Her pulse thumped against my chest. My own glow flared so hard my veins stung.
The Nest Moss, delighted by the drama, puffled instantly. It bloomed beneath her, releasing its signature scented haze in a wave so aggressive my gills fluttered. The moss molded around her hips, then crept up to cradle her shoulders, shifting and squirming as it sampled her heat signature with greedy delight. By protocol, I should have placed her gently and then sat a respectful two hand-widths away for the rest-cycle. Instead, I crashed down beside her, the moss swelling up to envelop my thighs and hips, pinning us together in a cocoon of radiating warmth.
"I’m assuming by your lack of panic, this is safe? Kinda weird to be honest, but that seems to be everything to do with you." Her eyes widened at the moss’s enthusiasm, but the corners of her mouth betrayed the hint of a smile. Her lips were parted behind the plush jelly of the Breather Mask as she panted. Every muscle in her frame telegraphed tension… fight, flight, or maybe the wild urge to laugh.
I reached to adjust the mask’s seal, and my thumb brushed the side of her neck. The jelly purred, literally, the vibration rippling into my bones. Her heartbeat tripled beneath my touch, a wild oceanic rhythm that drove my own internal tide up and up until I was sure I’d combust.
Scandalous patterns… deep violets, white-hot blue, little bursts of gold, raced up my forearms. I tried to suppress them, but the harder I reined in, the more the color found new places to escape: cheeks, clavicle, the damnable edge of my jaw.
She eyed my biolights, her own heat signature spiking in answer. The Breather Mask made her voice nasal and thick, but the translator patch at her throat did its best. "You look like a jellyfish rave."
The patch mangled it. "You have rebellious fish energy." My skin nearly detached itself in horror. My internal translator had finished calibrating to her language though she would still need hers for anyone else that might pop up.
She grinned, anyway, a feral show of teeth, and in that moment I wanted nothing more than to bare my own fangs, press her down into the moss, and test every theory the Intergalactic Registry had about cross-species compatibility.
Instead, I pulled my hand away. Protocol, protocol, protocol.
The mask’s jelly lips glimmered with condensation. Her skin, delicate, not scaled or armored, so easy to bruise, seemed to pulse with the same rhythm as mine. For a moment, the room and its protocols fell away. There was only the spark between us, the pulse of heat, the knowledge that I’d already failed at every conceivable etiquette but couldn’t make myself care.
I leaned closer, so close the tips of our noses might have grazed if not for the mask. My own breath fogged the air, thick with pheromones I couldn’t hope to hide. She inhaled, eyes going glassy. Her tongue flicked out to taste the mask’s surface, and a sharp whimper caught in her throat.
At the worst possible moment, the translator chirped. "Nest calibration engaged. Proceed with cozy friction!"
We both froze. Then she barked a laugh… sharp, deranged, more panic than humor, and glared at the patch as if she might rip it off and throw it into the void.
"Are you—" she started, then faltered, shaking her head and muttering, "I can’t believe the only thing keeping me alive is a sex-mad Google Translate."
The moss, thrilled at the attention, wobbled under her hips and released a cloud so dense I nearly blacked out.
"Sorry," I said, which the patch warped into, "my apologies for the nest’s passionate engagement. I lack training in subtlety."
She snorted, then tipped her head back and groaned, the sound of it hitting me right behind the sternum. "Story of my life."
Before I could ask what that meant, the holowall flickered and the faces of my battle brothers, Kazmyr and Silvyr, projected into the chamber like disapproving ancestors. Kazmyr’s scars glowed with their own internal fire, his molten-gold eyes sweeping over me, then Maya, then me again. He made a low, knowing noise and muttered, "You’re running full heat, Vylit. We can see it from orbit."
Silvyr, always one to puncture solemnity, let out a staticky chuckle and deadpanned, "Asset acquired. Also, wow."
If I’d been in open water, I would have burrowed into an eternal trench.
Maya, not missing a beat, crossed her arms over her chest. A maneuver that inadvertently pressed her cleavage together in a way I doubted she realized, but I very much noticed. She pinned the projections with a withering glare.
"Is voyeurism a cultural thing here, or do you just spy on each other’s bedrooms for kicks?" She twisted on the moss, which gripped her tighter, as if shielding her from the embarrassment.
Silvyr laughed outright. "Only when it’s this entertaining. Welcome to the family."
