32. Kira

32

Kira

The silence after our conversation is stretching heavy and awkward. I'm kicking at rocks, sending a spray of dirt scattering in front of me.

The illogical part of me, the part I usually shove down ruthlessly, feels a strange pang of... disappointment? Am I enjoying listening to that lizard ramble on about galactic politics and outlawed hunting grounds?

Damn, the answer is yes. A huff of breath leaves my nose at the thought.

I like it when he speaks.

It isn't just the oppressive desert heat wafting into the forest making my skin prickle, though.

The sound of his deep, rumbling voice, a low, almost hissing quality to it, sends shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with fear.

Ugh, Kira, get a grip , I scold myself internally.

This is Drasuk. A giant reptilian killing machine, or so he says, who nearly choked to death on his own arrogance not two hours ago.

I've yet to see him do anything but play cat and mouse with me or hug that giant caterpillar thing while it tried to fucking kill him.

I let out a snort of amusement. Now that some time has passed, it's pretty damn comical when I picture it and the look of horror on his face. I have to hold in the laugh that wants to explode out of me to avoid looking deranged.

Well, more deranged.

My reaction to him? Not nearly as funny.

Needing a distraction, anything to break the awkward tension and quell the unwelcome arousal simmering beneath the surface, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. As usual.

"So, uh, how good is your sense of smell?"

Drasuk's head snaps toward me, his forehead spines quivering in confusion before moving back to their normal position.

"My sense of smell?" he repeats, his voice laced with amusement.

"Yeah," I mumble, feeling the stupid heat creeping up my neck again. "Like, can you smell things from really far away?"

He stares at me for a long, uncomfortable beat of silence. My cheeks are burning under his scrutiny.

Is there something on my face?

Does a giant space lizard have telepathic abilities that I'm not aware of?

"Is there something wrong with your inquiry, human?" he finally asks, his voice devoid of its earlier amusement.

"What? No," I sputter defensively. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He twitches the spines along his back, which I've come to realize is his equivalent of a shrug. "It's an unusual question, wouldn't you say? Not a typical topic of conversation amongst humans, is it?"

My cheeks are flaming even hotter. "I was just trying to make conversation, okay?" I snap, my voice laced with irritation.

Drasuk blinks, his eyes studying me for a moment.

"Conversation, you say?" he rumbles, his voice tinged with something that sends a shiver down my spine. "An interesting choice of words, considering the implications such a statement could have on my home planet."

My breath hitches.

Implications? What implications? My mind is conjuring up a series of horrifying images, each one more outlandish than the last.

"I-I didn't mean anything by it," I stammer, backtracking as fast as possible.

"As far as I can tell, most of your words don't have meaning."

A growl escapes my throat before I can stop it. I'm spinning on my heel and storming off through the undergrowth, the sound of rustling leaves masking the frustrated tears welling up in my eyes.

The nerve of him.

Here I am, stuck in the middle of nowhere with a giant, condescending reptile, and all he can do is mock me?

I would make far better time and would be far stealthier without him. His intermittent bellows and crashing steps probably let everything in the region know about us.

It's a miracle we haven't been attacked again.

And if we are, what's he going to do? Hug them to death?

Suddenly, a deep, booming laugh is echoing through the trees. I whip my head around to see Drasuk lumbering after me, his massive frame shaking with amusement.

"Wait!" he yells out, his voice laced with laughter.

Case in point, right there. He is a lumbering oaf.

I glare at him, refusing to budge. Why won't he just go away? The jerk.

He finally stops a few meters behind me, his laughter subsiding into chuckles. "Alright," he rumbles, wiping a tear from his eye—or at least, what I assume is a tear.

It's hard to tell with his oversized features.

"I apologize for the amusement at your expense, human. But your flustered state is rather entertaining. Endearing, even."

I grit my teeth.

Endearing? The last thing I want to be to this bumbling lizard is endearing.

"Look," I say, crossing my arms. "If you won't simply leave me alone so I can sneak around instead of announcing to the whole fornicating forest that we are here, can we just move on? Before one of those things we fought earlier decides to make a snack of us?"

Drasuk's expression is softening, and a flicker of seriousness crosses his features. "As you wish," he rumbles, his voice regaining its usual depth. "Though, I must admit, your question about my sense of smell was a curious one."

I sigh. Here we go again.

"Well?" I prompt, a hint of curiosity peeking through my annoyance.

He tilts his head, his slitted pupils scanning the forest floor. "Our sense of smell is far superior to most," he explains. "We can detect scents from quite a distance away, depending on the wind and the potency of the odor."

"How far are we talking?

"I can still smell the wreckage."

A glance behind us confirms that I can't even see it anymore. We took a detour into the forest, before looping back, but I'd say it has to be a good ten klicks away.

"That far?" I ask, surprised.

This is worse than I feared when it comes to my raging arousal, and better than I hoped for locating the women.

"Yes," he confirms. "It's a valuable tool for hunting and tracking prey. It also allows us to detect danger from afar, such as approaching predators or changes in the environment."

"No excrement, Sherlock."

"Sherlock?"

I ignore his question. "I was in a pod when I woke up."

"A cryogenic chamber."

"Okay, a chamber. There were nine other women with me. Do you know what a chamber would smell like, and can you use my scent to scan for the women?"

"Yes. I have already been doing both, Kira."

"With your super nose, right. So, like a giant bloodhound?" I tease, a sliver of a smile playing on my lips.

"You'd have to define that for me to say."

"An animal known for a strong sense of smell on earth."

"I have no point of reference to reply intelligently."

I let out a guffaw. "Drasuk, that isn't what's stopping you from sounding intelligent."

He whips his tail around and I yelp as it smacks into the back of my thighs.

"Ingrate," I mutter as I rub them to help take away the sting.

"Should I start comparing you to mere animals from my planet? There is, in fact, a type of furry creature that likes to screech at you and throw rocks whenever you get near it. If you get close enough, it defecates and scurries away. I think there is—"

"Alright," I interrupt, not particularly interested in knowing what traits of mine he is going to dredge up in comparison. "You made your point."

"Good. Then let me just say that we don't just rely on scent. Our sense of smell is just one of many sensory inputs we utilize for navigation and survival."

All that arrogance really must have left him with a giant head, which explains why he tramps around like an elephant.

In spite of it all, I smile.

We continue our trek, the silence no longer as awkward after our banter. The revelation about Drasuk's heightened sense of smell sparks a new wave of questions in my mind, though.

"Can you smell, uh, me?" I blurt out, the question catching even me by surprise.

He stops abruptly, his gaze meeting mine. My cheeks flush again, a traitorous warmth spreading through me.

Why do I keep asking him such personal, obvious things?

"Of course I can smell you, human," he says, his voice a deep grinding. "Everything has a scent. Yours is a curious mix of sweat, fear, and... something else."

"Something else?"

He leans in closer, his face mere inches from mine. My breath hitches in my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs. The air is crackling with energy, a tension that is both exhilarating and terrifying.

"I believe that 'something else' might be defiance," he rumbles, his voice a husky murmur.

Then he just keeps on walking.

My mind is reeling.

Defiance?

Is that really what he thinks that "something else" is? Is he fucking with me? Because I know there's more going on here, something I don't really have the confidence to voice.

Which is completely unlike me, and I loathe everything about it.

My usual response is anger, but that quickly bleeds away as no justification for lashing out presents itself.

Maybe I'm growing up, then. It's not like I needed a justification before. Except I don't want to drive him away. Not really.

It's a terrifying thought. I hate it.

Not to mention Drasuk seems to like it when I get angry, which is crazy. No man I have ever met has liked it. Plenty have told me my anger is outright unattractive and unfeminine.

As if rage is only for men. Fuckers.

There's a lot to be pissed off about on Earth, especially with the rapid diminishment of overall respect and the insane ability for most of the world to completely ignore the suffering and injustice all around them.

Except when it impacts them, of course.

There's plenty to be angry about here, too. For instance, why won't my skin stop itching? I rake my nails down myself again, but freeze when I feel something rough.

A prickle of unease skitters down my spine, morphing into full-blown panic as I register a foreign sensation. My skin feels different. Rougher, thicker.

Heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, I split the upper half of my suit off me in a single, jerky motion. The material tears with a satisfying rip, revealing the source of my growing unease.

My skin, once a cinnamon-hued canvas, smooth and soft—my personal trademark, thank you very fucking much—with the occasional dark freckle smattering has been replaced by strange, oval markings that spread across my stomach and sides. They resemble the spots on the creature Drasuk tried to hug into submission.

Numbly, I poke one of them and it's a texture not too dissimilar from what I imagine a rhino would feel like.

A strangled cry escapes my lips, fear clawing its way up my throat.

"What the actual fiery pit in the ground?"

My voice, usually laced with a sardonic edge, is a high-pitched squeak.

My frantic gaze darts around until it lands on Drasuk. He's up ahead, partly turned, frozen mid step. His spikes are twitching in what might be concern, which may or may not have made me happy in normal circumstances.

This is not normal.

Instead, I want to verbally eviscerate him. Except no words will come out of my mouth.

"I must say," he rumbles, his voice a low vibration in the quiet cave, "that's an improvement over that soft squishy hide you had before."

The audacity of the beast.

"Improvement?" I ask, the word tearing from my throat like a wounded animal.

I run my hands over my stomach, then confirm that it extends around my sides, the rough skin beneath my fingertips sending a fresh wave of nausea washing over me.

Drasuk holds up his massive, clawed hands in a placating gesture. "Calm is needed to figure this out."

"Calm down?" I choke out, my voice regaining some of its usual fire. "Don't patronize me, lizard. Those pieces of excrement genali did this to me. They made it so I would change into whoever purchased me."

I have never before wished so hard that my enemy was in front of me so I could smash them into plops of sad gray goo. Instead, I have to channel my rage at the only alien in front of me.

"You have to know more about what's happening to me. You're a fornicating alien," I hiss out.

He sighs, a sound like wind rustling through ancient trees. "Kira," he starts, his voice dropping to a soothing rumble, "I honestly don't know what's happening. Maybe the genali tampered with your DNA, trying to turn you into one of their mindless drones, and this is some unintended side effect."

I glare at him, my anger warring with a flicker of morbid curiosity. Could that be it?

The thought is repulsive, but it also holds a sliver of logic. Drasuk, sensing the shift in my mood, decides to lighten the tense atmosphere, a foolish endeavor on his part.

"Besides," he continues, his spines twitching, "why all the dramatics? You keep denying you're squishy, yet here you are with not one, but two very ample pillows adorning your chest."

I lunge for him, fueled by a potent cocktail of fury and something else entirely—a surging possessiveness over my suddenly altered body.

He easily dodges my clumsy swipe, his booming laughter echoing through the forest and out into the desert.

Normally, I'd have countered with a witty retort, laced with enough venom to silence a viper. But right now, all I can manage is a strangled sound, a mixture of a growl and a frustrated whimper.

This is no laughing matter. My entire body feels alien, a constant reminder of my precarious situation.

Drasuk finally sobers, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. "Alright," he rumbles, his voice losing its playful edge. "We can save the squishy debate for another time. I truly am sorry. I know you want answers, but we have no way of knowing what caused that."

He gestures toward my mottled skin, his forehead spines oriented in what seems like genuine puzzlement.

I sink down onto the ground, my skin shifting in ways that are utterly foreign, the rough texture a constant scratching against my newly sensitive skin. Frustration gnaws at me.

Here I am, stranded on a godforsaken alien planet, my body morphing into something I barely recognize, and all I have for company is a giant, condescending dino-dragon who offers unhelpful observations about my bust.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to focus. Panicking won't solve anything.

"So, what do we do?" I ask, my voice hoarse. "Do you have some alien doctor on speed dial who can diagnose interspecies cooties?"

The flippancy of my words feels hollow, but a sliver of dark humor is all I have to cling to right now.

Drasuk chuckles, a sound that rumbles deep within his chest. "If I understood that correctly, despite the untranslated words, the answer is still no."

"Great," I mutter, burying my face in my hands. "Just fantastic. So, I'm stuck looking like a walking camouflage pattern with no way to reverse it."

A fresh wave of despair threatens to engulf me.

"Like I said, don't make any conclusions yet," Drasuk says, his voice gentle. He lumbers closer, carefully placing a large hand on my shoulder.

It's not repellant. It might even feel... nice... like I want more.

Before I can form a coherent response, Drasuk pulls back, his expression unreadable. He clears his throat, the sound echoing in the stillness.

"We should continue," he says gruffly, turning away and resuming his lumbering walk.

Left speechless and bewildered, I make myself get back on my feet, tell my suit to fix itself, and follow behind him.

The forest seems to hum with a newfound intensity, the rustling leaves and chirping insects taking on a whole additional dimension. Is it just my imagination, or is the air charged with what has been left unsaid?

I need to gain some space and no way in hell will I get by being slower.

I shake my head and stomp past him, not minding the fact that I shoulder-tackle him on the way by.

Well, more like bounce off him. Fuck.

Stupid iguana.