7. Skylar

7

Skylar

It's official, I've got feelings for Tan. The question is what should I do about them? And does he feel the same way?

I'm not sure. It's been ten of their ship-days since I stupidly brained myself with a statue. And Tan has been kind. We share two meals in our days, and we talk about the food and battles. So many battles. Detailed stories of tactics and strategy and victories. It's mind-numbing. If Tan was human, I'd think he was totally full of himself. But he asks questions too. And he listens like my answers hold some secret to the universe.

Maybe this is the galaxy's most bizarre interrogation ?

If so, Tan's welcome to break me anytime.

But first, I must make myself useful. During the day while he works doing Raiva things, I wander the ship. Tylan is becoming more my friend than servant. Despite their insistence that a sistan and an outsider cannot be friends.

Perhaps they just don't want to get too attached. Tan promised to send me back just as soon as the ship can open communication with FUA command. It shouldn't be taking this long, but I'm not rushing things. I should be rushing things. I should want to go home. I do want to see my sister again. But beyond that, I like it here. I'm the odd person out, being without scales or a tail, but I'm getting more and more comfortable by the day.

And I want Tan. I want to feel his arms around me, run my fingers over his scales, feel his tail and his lips.

I'm a hot mess.

He returns after his shift doing Raiva things with a hovercart full of food. There's a dispenser. Tylan showed me how to use it, and the food is different but tasty. I've seen Tan use it for himself once or twice, but for me, he always brings the hovercart.

"On my first posting, a squad of Thrax Kohath tried to board us," he begins. "I was only an Aegiseer-jun, and my battle sense not yet honed. But our Aegiseer Specialist had a keen sense of timing, and…"

I spoon spiced grains and protein chunks with half my attention as Tan walks me through another memory of combat.

Maybe all this battle talk is a ritual of some sort? A Raiva thing? At least Tan usually winds down after five or ten minutes and then we can change the subject, thank the Stars.

When he finishes, he leans across the small, round table between us and says, "and by this, nymara , I hope I have proven myself capable of defending your spirit, body, and hearth." His gold eyes fix on mine as his tail swishes back and forth behind him. His wings are raised, the frills of his ears upright. Expectant.

"Uhh… yes." I nod. "I believe you. You're very competent. You should be proud of your accomplishments. "

Tan's ears droop a little, and I force a smile. "Extremely competent," I add. "How many more battles did you want to walk me through? I'm not much of a fighter."

"But your hearts are fierce."

"I really only have the one," I admit.

Tan shakes his head. "You do not understand." His tail is twitching now, like a cat in poor temper, and his wings, usually tight to his back, flutter with what I assume is the same irritation.

"I'm sorry," I say. I'm not trying to offend him. "Did you want to tell me about it again?"

He growls.

Fex.

Maybe I should just ask him to kiss me. But aside from taking my hand that one time when I was coming up from a concussion, he's not big on touching. Usually, if a guy is interested, he'll get in your space. And flirt. The closest Tan has come to flirting is laying out a diagram of a ship battle using small stones in the middle of his bedroom floor .

I tried to ask Tylan once about Asheraah mating, and the specifics of Asheraah male anatomy, and the sistan scales took on a yellowish cast. Squeezing their eyes shut, they said, "It is very wet. And there is a joining of sexual anatomy. I found vids of the process… unsettling. The Five Gods showered blessings upon me that I not feel compelled toward such acts."

Maybe I should have asked Tylan to take me to the Asheraah doctor for a second opinion. Or to direct me to one of those vids.

This is stupid. Maybe the attraction I'm feeling is a delayed trauma response? It's clear Tan is just being nice. Friendly. I'm not even sure our anatomy would join properly.

He's still looking at me like he wants me to say something. I wish someone had handed me the script.

"What does ‘nymara' mean?" I blurt out.

His mouth opens and closes and opens again. Finally, he says, "It is an endearment."

The hint of a smile touches the corners of his mouth, and all I can think of is kissing him. Not one of those chaste, friendly yet distant kisses between friends, but one of the ones that is filled with emotion, a passionate, stick my tongue down his throat and tickle his tonsils—does he have tonsils?—kisses that leave both of us breathless and ready for more.

"What kind of endearment?"

"It means ‘little one.'"

That sounds like flirting. Or maybe he thinks I'm a child?

"What are you thinking about, nymara?" he asks.

Should I tell him I'm thinking about kissing him? Do Asheraah kiss? I wish I'd thought to ask Tylan, though more questions about Asheraahn sexuality might be the end of our almost friendship.

And fex if I'm going to bring this up to my Asheraahn guard.

"Anatomy," I say.

Tan raises a frilled eyebrow. "What sort of anatomy?"

If Tan was human, I'd definitely think this was flirting .

"Wings," I blurt out. "I noticed you have wings."

He cocks his head. "Yes." The word draws out in a slight hiss.

"Can you fly? Or are they just decorative?" Sometimes questions are like a snowball running down a mountain. Except this one is a boulder, and even if I throw myself in front of it, I'll be flattened. "Like hair. Or fingernails. Or the appendix."

"Is the appendix not inside of your body?"

"Forget the appendix."

"I can fly, but we do not do so in the ship's corridors. We have an exercise cavern." Tan hesitates. "I can show you, if you would like."

I nod, feeling braver. "Are they… sensitive?" That came out all wrong. "I mean, you hold them so tight and…"

The scales on Tan's face darken, and I look down at my bowl.

"Sorry. That was personal."

"Would you like to touch them?" His voice is low, the sibilants dragging out and a little harsh, like a serpent.

My face burns. Before I can respond, Tan stands. He steps away from the table and turns to the side, so that I can see the twin gaps in the back of his uniform jacket. He reaches for the clasps and unsnaps them, exposing his bare back. The wings are folded tight, creating twin hunches that shiver as they unfurl. His scales are gold, but the wings have shimmering hints of green and blue, almost iridescent. They're more like a bat's wings than a bird's. We used to have bats on Caliban, secretive little beasts that would dart through the trees at night and devour insects and small fish. I never saw them clearly, but in the moonlight, they sometimes reflected an iridescence too.

My fingers twitch and my mouth goes dry as he spreads. Their span is at least as wide as he is tall from shoulder to tip. Thick bone curves out like a finger, the rest of the wing trailing with the texture of woven silk.

Tan looks back at me, his shoulders tense, his mouth a thin line .

The decision is not a hard one. I want to feel him. I want him to want me to feel him. I push my chair out and stand, walking the few feet between us. "May I touch them?" I ask, my words strangely formal. But the formality feels like armor. A cracking armor around a hatchling of wanting and confusion and sheer delight.

"Whatever you wish, nymara," he says.

I run my fingertips over the thin membrane, feeling the strong bones beneath. Tan tenses, as the wings flutter against my hand. They are warm and softer than anything I would have imagined. I feel like a thief, and like a voyeur. My heart thuds. My hand shakes.

"Is that good?" I ask.

Tan lets out a long breath. "Yes." He turns to face me, the wings spreading further and then closing around us.

I step closer as he lifts me, pressing my body to his strong chest as he buries his face in my neck. My hair. His breath whispers over my skin, leaving a trail of electric heat. He looks up, his lips not even an inch from mine, and I lean in, pressing our mouths together.

He tenses again, his frilled brows lowering as his wings stiffen, his ears going flat against his skull. I pull back. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

Asheraah don't kiss, do they? From his reaction, don't kiss is an understatement.

Fex.

Double fex.

"I'm sorry." I should have done something useful while touring the ship and asked one of their doctors about how sex works for Asheraah. Now I've gone and offended him.

The intercom beeps, and I've never been so grateful for an interruption. Even if it means the ship is getting attacked. Tan lowers me to the floor, pulling his wings in as he walks to the intercom.

Now I know I've upset him. The intercom is voice activated. Tan doesn't need to walk to the device unless he's trying to put distance between us. He taps it with his claw and begins a low, rapid-fire conversation in Asheraah .

I just stand there, watching.

I am a fexing idiot.

When he's done, which seems to take too long and not long enough, he turns back to me. "You offer an exchange of breath and water. Does this mean you accept my bond?"

"Huh?" Wasn't I already his bounty? Is that a fancy way of him asking if I like him? "I don't understand."

Tan glances at the door and back at me. "I must return to the bridge." His gaze sweeps over me, and I realize the rims of his gold eyes have thickened. He runs his tongue over his thin lips. Maybe I didn't offend him?

"I like you," I say. My face is hot. "We kiss to show that."

"Kiss." He breathes the word as though tasting it.

"But if I offended you—"

"You did not offend." His tail taps against his leg as he glances at the door again. "You cannot offend, my nymara."

The intercom buzzes again, and Tan mutters something under his breath. It sounds like fex.

I want to laugh.

"I must go," Tan says. "But when I return, we will continue this talk."