Page 47 of Invasive Species
“And you don't lie,” she reminds me, taking another step closer. She's within my reach, nothing between us but a handspan of distance.
“I… I think you're annoyingly willful. Strong minded. Stubborn,” I say. Each word would be a death sentence on Oloria, but I can't stop, as if the airlock has blown open and all my innermost thoughts are hurtling out into space. “You snoop and pry, and you insist until I break.”
She tilts her head. I expect her to be angry but she sounds calm as she says, “Times by a thousand, right?”
“A million.” I grasp the counter behind me, the only thing keeping me upright.
“Tell me more,” she says, tongue darting out to touch her lips. Pink, pretty and perfect, soft and inviting. Thanks to my reading, I can imagine claiming them, kissing them, tasting them, and I ache to do all these things.
Arra-bellah steps closer still, face turned up to mine. She holds her hand out and I do the only thing I can think of.
I take it, sliding her tiny cold hand into mine. It’s like a tether on a spacewalk, keeping me grounded.
“Hey, big grumpy guy,” she breathes, stroking the side of my thick hands.
Who would have thought such a gentle touch would undo me?
But what now? My mind blanks apart from a burning need to have her close, to follow wherever she leads.
“I've got something to show you,” she whispers, and takes me through El-len's private abode and up the stairs.
The risers creak under my weight, reminding me I’m so much bigger than these humans, and Arra-bellah is the smallest female here. It gives me pause. What if my explorations harm her? I couldn’t bear it if they do.
The little human gently tugs my hand. “Don't fret, Gara. It's a nice surprise.”
She takes me into a room. I expect a bed, and there is one, but it's bare and covered with plain white and cream rectangles, all of different sizes. Dominating the room is a triangle shape with one square resting on it.
She beckons me around to its other side, and I confront myself. A startling likeness indeed, but it's not an image of another Selthiastock clone. It's really, truly me.
Except I’m scowling. Is that how I look at her? I have to stop that.
“It's me,” I offer, painfully aware of how dumb it sounds said aloud. I can't think of anything to say. All my words, including the ones borrowed from the books I've read, have vanished.
“Yes, it is. I made this thinking of you.” She twists her fingers together. “I put in your dark and your light. I can't quite figure you out yet.”
As she says that, I realize she wants to know more about…me. She sees me. As an individual. As if I'm someone special.
And based off the look she's giving me now, she wants me.
She moves into my reach, lips parting. “What do you think?”
“I think…” I can’t think, wiped clear of all sentience, but at last my instincts kick in and the shock is shoved to one side.
“I admire it greatly,” I say, because I do.
“Admire it, huh?” She watches me closely as if feasting on my reaction.
I don't give her much because I've shunted into the Selthiastock mindset of operating through shock. What can I emote to show her how much this means to me?
Before I can think of the words, she's already moving away. “I'm glad. You can take it with you, if you… decide to go. Or, if you stay, I'm sure we can make you guys a house somewhere, reclaim an old building. You put it in there when you get yourselves all settled.”
More shock piles onto me, running through my veins like meltwater. I haven’t considered the possibility we’ll be staying, as it’s clearly Ilia’s intent that we fix El-len’s barn and then be on our way. The mission focus can’t change, and I certainly can’t be the one to change it.
Or can I? There’s no denying I’m intoxicated by her. She somehow invaded when I wasn’t looking, got past my defenses and under my scales. Now she’s in deep, everything pulling me to grab her and kiss her senseless. She’s stripped me bare and shocked me to my core, but that’s where Selthiastocks perform best.
Scenes from stories leap out at me because I have a Selthiastock memory, and we forget nothing that we've studied. I've read all about how human females expect to be held, stroked, teased and made to come apart, and I can react without needing to think. I know what human females want and expect now, and I won’t fail.
Jerking towards her, I wrap my hands around her upper arms. With my voice a growl I say, “You are my prize.”
