Page 111 of Invasive Species
She glares up at me, eyes hot and hard, a flash of the fiery Arra-bellah I love. “What about you?”
“If this fails, the Prif will have me killed.”
Arra-bellah’s jaw drops. “She better not! I'll… I'll…” she splutters.
I gently stroke her cheek, now the perfect shade of pink, much like a promising sunrise on a clear Earth day. “It won't fail, Arra-bellah. I can already tell you're healthier and full of energy. Back to the female I met and fell in love with.”
Love. Such a simple yet complex concept, once laced with pain when I thought back to my mother, now made into molten joy by the woman in my arms.
She wriggles distractingly against the crushed moss, but its verdant scent can’t overpower her delicious cinnamon-sweet smell. “So, what else can we do here?” she asks.
“I have plenty of scenarios to experiment with from Planet of the Pirate Prince,” I reassure her.
“And we'll come up with some of our own too,” she says, with the flare of mischief in her eye which always means trouble for me.
Trouble I can't wait to have all to myself.
THIRTY-FIVE
ARABELLA
When I wake up,Gara’s gone.
I'm still on the balcony, bright sunlight overhead and a thin silver blanket that somehow manages to be toasty warm tucked around me. The room is empty, the Aurora Borealis lights skimming over the ceiling in their calming way.
But I can't be calm. Where the fuck is Gara? Fear strangles me as hard as the bloody police clone gripped Gara’s throat yesterday. He's been taken away; he might even now be on his way to a trial or worse.
The warm bubble of our mate connection expands in my chest, like it's trying to hug me from the inside out, and I know everything is going to be okay. Still, I want to see him.
I gather up the silver sheet, wrap it around me like a towel, grab Ellen’s translating headphones, and stomp off to find him. At least I feel miles better, night and day different, and totally ready to kick alien ass when I find whoever’s taken Gara.
It's like a game of hot and cold in my chest, the bubble getting warmer in one direction and colder in the other. Barkand wood seem to share space with clinical metal, and I navigate my way through the empty corridors.
My heart leads me to a closed door. I hammer at it. “Oi. Let me in, right the fuck now!”
The door melts, turning into thousands of cubes and reforming into an archway. A flurry of voices comes from lots of women conversing, all in flowing robes of red, some bright like fire and others dark as dried blood. They're gathered around, talking excitedly and showing each other flat panels like ebooks.
The All-Mother approaches me. “Ah, Arra-bellah, welcome.”
“Where is he?” I storm inside through the crowd and am immediately confronted with a row of Garas behind shadowy glass. All of them are gathered in a big room like an empty warehouse. They’re able to move at least, although none of them look our way, their scales a mix of muddy browns and cautious grays and jaws tight with tension.
Scanning them quickly, I find my Gara: something about the way he holds his head, the slope of his shoulders, how he glances covertly at the glass. I know him like I know myself, and I know he's both worrying about me and wondering if he can stick the finger to these ladies and get away with it. He has to hide himself when he’s here, and it breaks my heart to see his scales so dim.
I run to the window and bang on it, but it's like the clones can't hear me, none of them so much as glancing my way. But Gara’s head jerks around, like he just heard his name.
“As you can see, he's fine,” Shara says, coming up next to me.
“Let me in there.”
“Of course.” Shara gestures to the left where a few more females gather, chattering so excitedly my headphones only catch one in ten words: “Selthia” is repeated a lot, as is “life-changing.” They don't look at me as I pass them, as if seeing a human is old news by now and studying Gara has them hooked.
Shara smiles down at me. “As you can see, the finding has caused quite the stir. Selthia’s Oasis has already been inundated with requests for mates as news travels about the healing power of a bond with a Selthiastock.” She seems smug about that.
“Great,” I mutter, looking for a way into the viewing area to get Gara. “They'll be used and abused again.”
“Actually, no. The findings so far indicate that a Selthiastock cannot bond under duress or distress, that is, he cannot be forced to. It's led to some outrage, I'll admit, from… certain quarters, but we've also had an interesting proposal come in. A female has requested a Selthiastock for a, well, I think you humans call it a ‘date.’”
That has to be good. I think of Ezla and how kind and diligent he’s been. He'd make a great mate for someone, especially if she made sure he was happy too.
