Page 89 of Invasive Species
“Shh,” a soothing voice says. “It's me.”
My heart leaps with hope. Gara?
I crush that thought ruthlessly. It’s probably just another clone.
Turning my face away so he won’t see my disappointment, I grumble, “Little help, please?”
“Of course.” He slides his arms underneath my shoulders and my knees, muscles standing proud as he lifts me out of the suction of the bed. My skin warms where he touches me and I curse myself. I can't be responding to the touch of another guy, even if he’s cradling me like I’m fine jewels.
His scales soften where my body lies against his, flashing to a happy neon green that radiates like the sunrise.
No way. I know that shade. It hurts to hope, but I can’t help it.
The mask covering this clone’s face is utterly blank, a breathing tube and smooth metal encasing his features. The mirrored surface reflects back my longing.
It can’t be him. Can it?
“Gara?” I whisper, mouth so dry the word cracks.
The mask nods once, a human gesture, and I throw my arms around him, too stunned to laugh or cry.
“You’re alive?” is the best I can do. “Am I awake?” If I’m not, I never want to wake up from this.
“I’m alive, and you are awake.” He cradles me in a bridal carry like I might be snatched away any second, and the smell convinces me: his warming, freeing scent that helps me breathe deeply. I inhale him, his body fresh and new and yet familiar each time.
He takes me to the balcony. The sun peeps over the horizon, spreading glitter on all the rust red desert, but I shun this alien world. I have eyes only for him.
“Are you going to steal me away? Because I’m totally up for that.” I snuggle into his arms, hands roving all over him to check for injuries.
He presses his head to mine, as if to kiss the top of my head through the mask. “You are still deathly ill, and we need to find a cure. Besides, this isn’t book 6 of Planet of the Pirate Prince,” he teases gently.
The reference breaks something open inside me, and, like a Russian doll, all my feelings come unpacked and spill from one another.
I start to laugh, then I burst into tears, then I just hold him close, sobbing onto his collarbone. I press kisses to his eucalyptus scented skin and breathe him in, lips mapping the tiny joins in his scales. I want to get closer than ever before.
“Gara, I need you so badly.” The connection between us throbs in my chest. I'd thought he was dead, gone forever, and now he's here, alive and well.
And apparently, that makes me horny as hell.
He takes a shuddering breath as if he’s barely holding himself in check too, and I’m quick to say, “It’s okay, I feel better just being near you. Kiss me, please. Hold me. Fuck me, I want it all, now, right here on the balcony.”
I want him like I want water, to drink, to paint with and to swim in; he keeps me alive in all senses of the word.
“I can leave,” another voice says. I pop my head over Gara’s shoulder to see Ezla.
Ah, oops.
Burying my burning cheeks in Gara’s arms, I whisper, “I didn’t realize we had company.”
“Are you regretful for stating your desires?” Gara asks, with an amused tone.
“Not regretful, just… I didn’t know we had company.” I pat my hot cheeks. Hopefully this is the fever and not crushing embarrassment overwhelming me. “You know me, I’m not shy, but I also don’t, er, perform in front of an audience.”
“Nor would I want you to,” Gara murmurs in my ear. The mask tilts side to side as he studies me in the natural light of the sun, gently setting me on my feet. I feel lightheaded, and he snatches me up again before I even wobble.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I guess all I’m good for is being read to in bed.”
“Which I want to do,” Gara promises, but there's an edge to his voice. A harsh edge, matched by his pace as he slides me back into the nutrient bed.
