17. Ree

17

Ree

He should look terrifying. He has retractable claws and serrated teeth, for fuck's sake.

But I feel safer than I have in weeks.

"I am so sorry, little human. There are no words to express my regret."

I squeeze myself tighter and fight the tears that want to pour out of me.

I've waited so long to hear those words.

That they are coming from an alien who looks like a neon orange lion walking on two legs makes hysterical laughter want to bubble up right along with the tears.

If my life was a painting, Dali would definitely be the painter.

I blink rapidly to clear my mind. "Thank you. That means a lot."

He shakes himself and goes back to his task. I continue observing him as a way to stave off any embarrassing hysterics.

His long mane extends well down his back, coming to a tapered point a few inches away from where his tail starts. It looks just as elegant as you would expect in a feline's tail, shifting with him in graceful sweeps and bounces as he walks. It has a large black ovoid shape at the end that comes to a point, which is covered in the same shiny scales as his throat, arms, and paws.

Or would all four limbs have paws?

I suppose it doesn't matter, but I'll have to listen for how he refers to himself for clues.

His gait is awkward, just like any feline would look trying to walk on two legs, but his torso doesn't have the same shape as a cat.

His fur ripples as he walks and his tail dances along behind him. The muscle structures work in enough different ways that my mind is having a hard time pulling apart the differences.

I just know he looks absolutely deadly and utterly gorgeous.

"What's your name? Mine is Ree," I offer.

"Ree?"

When he says my name, it's with the sexiest gravelly purr. "Is that the right way to say it?"

No one has ever said it like that but no way in hell would I want to correct him. I feel another rush of heat between my legs and gulp, then realize I've let too much time pass.

"Y-yes, that's right," I say hastily.

"My name is Thivoll."

I test it out on my tongue, but don't say it out loud, feeling self-conscious even though I seem to be doing just fine communicating so far.

He rifles around the dead bodies, which makes me feel slightly guilty, but I'm far too practical to protest.

My gaze snaps back to him when it occurs to me that his limbs aren't bending as I would expect.

After a few more moments of observation, I realize he has an additional set of joints compared to a human. There's an elbow up close to his chest like a cat has, but then another halfway between it and his wrists.

Watching how he articulates his arms with an additional joint makes me feel queasy.

"There is nothing here of worth," Thivoll says after another few minutes.

I nod, then get annoyed with myself, relieved to have something to distract me by such a rude reaction to the natural way his body works.

"That'll be a hard habit to break," I grumble.

He hums again. "That gesture with your head? Just tell me what it means. No need to break a habit."

"Oh. Thanks. When I move my head up and down, it means yes. If I move it from side to side, it means no," I explain, moving my head the way I describe.

"Fascinating. I'll remember, and later I'll show you the equivalent from my culture. For now, let's move to safer ground, Ree."

Thivoll walks back over to me, then extends an arm out. I hesitate, then take his hand in mine.

It's huge, with fingers so long and thick I have to really stretch to thread mine between them. The black scales catch the light with a blue glow. They look raised and rough, especially starting at his wrists down, but are surprisingly soft.

His hand has two thumbs, and it's weird to feel them gently closing around my wrist from both sides. The black scales catch slightly when I shift my grip in a way that runs counter to how the scales lay against his skin.

"That is an interesting clasp, Ree," he says to me, looking down at our intertwined fingers.

I start to remove my hand from his, increasingly self-conscious, but he squeezes lightly.

"No, I like it. Very much."

Holding hands with a cat-lizard-scorpion-person as I walk turns out to be a somewhat bewildering, but very pleasant activity. We only take a few dozen steps before Thivoll pulls us to a stop.

I look up at him with a questioning look on my face.

"I hope this will not cause offense, Ree, but our trail will be very clear to any hunters if we continue on like this."

I think back to my brief foray into the woods earlier and realize I'm the weak link here. "I don't want to put you at risk because I'm with you. I can—"

I don't get to finish my thought before Thivoll starts shaking his big fluffy head. He wasn't joking when he said he'd remember the gesture.

Just that minor act makes me even more inclined to trust him.

He taps both thumbs against my wrist, the gesture soothing. "You won't bring additional risk, but I don't think you should be walking. I can carry you in my arms, but we will be faster and better prepared to flee as needed if you simply ride on my back."

"That won't be insulting?"

Once again, he shakes his head, then tips forward to place his hands on the ground. I'm disappointed to no longer be holding one.

My mind gets momentarily distracted thinking about how that works for him compared to a cat's paws. He pulls his fingers in like he's making a fist and his thumbs wrap around the fingers in a tight grip.

It reminds me of how a gorilla would run, except nothing else about him is like a primate.

I shake myself out of my staring and try to figure out how I'm going to scramble up on his back. Thivoll solves the issue by crouching down so his stomach is almost against the ground and sticking one of his fisted hands out to the side.

"Step on my arm and I'll boost you up," he offers and I move to comply, then freeze when a random memory flits into my head.

It was some old classic movie, Star Trek I think, where the alien's genitals were on its knee.

I feel like my life really must have turned into a complete joke if my mind is pulling up William Shatner to help me navigate.

"What's wrong?" Thivoll asks, his eyes intent on me, but ears suddenly swiveling around frantically.

I'm being weird.

"Oh, nothing. I just . . . uh . . ."

Now is not the time to explain, but some questions might help.

"What gender do you identify as?" I begin with, then cringe at how invasive it sounds.

"Male," he responds in a slow harsh drawl that lets me know he's confused.

His whiskers droop.

I feel my face getting bright red.

"I won't, um . . ." I clear my throat, resisting the urge to put my hands on my burning face. "You know, uh, smash any delicate parts?"

The last word is said in as much of a mortified squeak as one can manage in his rough language.

"No. Nothing delicate at all," he replies with a twinkle in his eyes and his whiskers pushed forward.

He seems to lose some sort of battle at keeping his composure and breaks into the chuffing sound he already admitted was laughter.

I scowl back at him, feeling silly, but also knowing it was a legitimate concern based on extreme ignorance.

"You really are so enchanting," he says. "We should leave now, Ree."

I shake myself out of my embarrassed outrage and unceremoniously grab some of his fur and clamber onto his back.

"You won't hurt me. Grab my mane and hang on tight."

I do as he asks a moment before he springs forward. My heart is in my throat for the first few strides, then I realize his gait is incredibly smooth.

Nothing like the few times I've ridden horses.

His body seems to flow from one stride to the next without feeling like his paws or fists impact the ground at all. I can see why he thought this would be better. It's almost as if we're floating instead of running.

When he speaks to me, I can feel the rumble all over.

"Do you feel secure?" he asks.

"Oh, yes. This is wonderful. You are amazing!"

I wish I had a better filter.

Because now I feel my face trying to burn off my cheeks again, though I can tell by the rumbling purr he liked hearing it.

"As are you, Ree. I have never met a human before. You are delightful."

I feel a glow in my chest, but it dims when I wonder if he simply means that I'm entertaining like some sort of bumbling tourist trying to order a pound of fish.

What an odd example. I feel so flustered right now.

The last time I felt like this was when Asad was talking about his plans for the weekend and I thought he might be about to ask me out. According to Tam, he likely was trying to ask me out before I panicked and started talking about needing to clean out Sammy's kitty litter.

Thankfully I'm interrupted before I can keep spiraling. I don't really want to think about how an alien has sparked my ridiculous social anxiety.

I'm officially far too old for it.

It needs to grow the hell up or something, dammit.

"We should wait to talk until we gain some distance from the dead slimes," he explains.

I breathe out in relief, hoping my addled brain will somehow find a calm, cool version of Ree so he thinks of me as an attractive sort of interesting instead of pitiful.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, there , I chide myself. I just met this man. Lion thingy. Whatever ! This is just the nanites at work , I tell myself firmly.

But I know it's a lie.

My mind was totally on board with hating the genali. I'm in control of my thoughts and they say Thivoll is the most interesting being I have ever met.

I thrust those thoughts aside. I can't do anything about the lust pumping through me, but no need to trot out those thoughts and risk blurting them out.

I instead focus on trying to figure out what bone and ligament structure would lead to this type of movement.

The wind is blowing my hair behind me and I can't help but feel exhilarated by the speed. Not to mention the feel of his flexing muscles and the surprisingly silken feel of his fur in my hands.

Or the musky scent that smells better than any expensive cologne imaginable.