Chapter 17

Ravok

The piercing wail of a siren jolts me back to consciousness, its shrill tone painful to my highly sensitive ears. I tense in readiness and then wince, the sudden movement sending pulses of pain across my body but manage to hold myself still at the last moment. Remnants of my ordeal are already reeling in my mind as the piercing sound fills the room.

My eyes, although still heavy with fatigue and pain, open to a slit, catching sight of the human female from the corner of my vision. I observe her as she springs into action – a surprising kind of grace about her, even in her rushed panic. She's not like the others, the ones who have caused me pain and experimented on me. There's a softness about her, a quality that probably means she is cowed and mistreated by her superiors. She wouldn't survive a day on Cryzor.

Swiftly, she reaches for what I recognize as a communication device. I've seen similar tools used by my previous captors.

However, my interest in the device fades into the background as the female darts out of the chamber, leaving me alone. Despite the thick, rough walls of the building, my sense of hearing, far superior to that of humans, picks up her hurried conversation. Not that I can understand on a linguistic level – for the Earth's languages are still incomprehensible without the assistance of my translator, but tones of urgency and worry, followed quickly by relief, are universal.

Being left alone gives me time to evaluate my current situation; the dull, aching pain that still racks my body is a stark reminder of my vulnerability. However, there's a glimmer of hope in the fact that I still seem to be far away from the sterile, cold labs of my previous captors. This female also seems to be caring for me for reasons I cannot possibly fathom, but I will gladly allow. For now. Once I am more healed, she will be ridiculously easy to overpower and escape from.

She slips back into the dwelling on quiet feet, the door closing behind her with a soft thud. The large, clear viewing panel on one side of the room tells me it is day, with bright light filtering inside the dwelling. The female scuttles about the room, running water and gathering supplies. I am mystified by what has her occupied. When she returns to my side, I close my eyes to slits and watch. She carries a large bowl with water sloshing around inside it. The scent wafting in the air arrests my attention – a unique, interesting blend that is softly floral. This same scent is clinging to her skin.

She kneels beside me on the thick floor covering on which I'm laid out, placing the bowl at her side.

I watch as she removes the covering laid over one of my legs, exposing the limb to the cool air. I almost jump in shock when she wets a cloth and begins to wash my foot. What is she doing? Is she bathing me? But why? Nothing about any of her actions makes the slightest bit of sense. I wonder for a moment if she is a slave. But dismiss that thought as she is in this dwelling alone, serving no one but me. Perhaps she is mentally unwell which might explain why she is alone in this hovel. On Cryzor, damaged individuals are recycled, not cruelly tossed away to fend for themselves.

She takes a deep breath, her small pink tongue darting out of the side of her mouth in concentration as she works.

A shiver tries to run through my body, not from pain but from her gentle touch. I ruthlessly suppress the reaction. It's odd; her touch is delicate like she's afraid of breaking me. Humans are so vulnerable and soft, and here she is, acting like I'm the fragile one. Her hands are calm and soothing, and the water surprises me – it's warm and comforting.

Her touch isn't like any I've ever experienced. My people do not touch each other like this. If a Cryzorian touched another so familiarly it would be considered a threat and an insult. Any Cryzorian worth his nanites would immediately retaliate. But her touch is… tender? Gentle. Much like how she behaves with the animal she shares her space with, the little plump orange one. The female works her way up my leg, washing away the dirt, blood, and remnants of the wreckage from my skin.

The sensation is… confusing. The warm water, absorbed by the soft cloth, is like a whisper against my skin – a sensation of comfort that brings forth unsettling feelings. As she bathes me, disconcerting emotions flit and surge through me like cosmic rays, intensifying with each gentle stroke of the cloth. The sensation – warm, soothing, strangely intimate – reaches beyond touch. I struggle with the feelings her touch evokes, unable to find words to explain the sensation as anything recognizable.

My patience is strained, and I force a steady rhythm in my breathing – slow inhales, prolonged exhales, mindful to keep up the appearance of unconsciousness. My skin thrums at her touch, each finger brushing my skin igniting unknown sensations that echo down the fabric of my being. I hadn't known humans possessed such an effect. Her touch is burning me despite the barrier of the wet cloth.

When she reaches my thigh, she hesitates, her brown-green eyes glittering as they roam over the metallic shine of my skin. She's frozen in place, her breathing growing rapid and shallow, her cheeks flushed pink. There's a strangeness in her gaze as she stares, filled with an emotion I am unable to identify.

Whatever is happening with the female is creating a strange reaction within me. Confusion twines with alarming agitation, and I feel as if electricity is lighting up along my nerve endings, something I'm not comfortable with.

A churning, tugging sensation in the pit of my stomach grows as she moves on to my other leg, her warm palm pressing against the cool silvery expanse of my skin.

Her fingers brush against the edges of the cloth covering my groin, and a surprising surge of intrigue pulses through me. I wonder if she will wash my genitals for me. I can't decide if I loathe that idea or crave it. I feel myself start to harden at the thought. So much so that I have to direct my nanites to restrict blood flow to the region. My nanites spring into action, slowing the rush of blood threatening to betray my composure.

I almost let out a sigh of relief when she finishes washing my leg and covers it with the thick shroud. She rises to her feet, taking the washing bowl with her. The air cools my skin, and I can't help but appreciate the absence of the itching, dirty skin. I'm left alone, gazing after her retreating figure, unsure if I feel relieved or disappointed that the bath is over.

Before I come to a conclusion, the female returns, the refreshed bowl of water in her hands. Her curiosity is printed openly all over her face. She seems particularly fascinated by my silvery skin, occasionally darting glimpses of admiration.

She rolls the blanket down to my hips, exposing my upper body to the air. I watch her, following her every move. She pauses, staring at my exposed body in silence.

I realize that her eyes are filled with admiration. I swell with pride as she admires my body, my Cryzor strength and power. There's awe in her eyes, an apparent approval that sends an unfamiliar shift down my spine. The look she gives is compassionate, awed, and curious. But most importantly, there's no loathing or disgust, only intrigue.

The sound of wind rustling through the tree outside, along with her soft voice, lulls me into a relaxed state. My muscles go lax as the female washes my stomach and chest.

My senses are tantalized by a new enticing scent that rises above the aroma of the floral, soapy water. It's intoxicating in a way I can't quite describe – sweet and musky, warm with an alluring hint of spice. With a start, I realize that the scent is rising from the female's skin, permeating the air around her, teasing and tormenting my heightened senses. It compels me, making me want to draw closer – to press my nose against her skin to find the source of the scent. A primal need, foreign but incredibly potent strikes, urging me to take this female in my arms.

I grit my teeth and push away the urge to reach out and touch her. I force myself to complete stillness as she bathes my chest and stomach. There's an efficiency to her touch, but also an unexpected tenderness that catches me off guard. It feels… foreign, that surprising softness. Yet, there's an inexplicable sense of familiarity in it too, echoing something buried deep within me – far from the roar of battle and conquest, something more primitive and ancient.

A flurry of forgotten memories surface within my mind, like brittle leaves twirling up from the ground on the wings of a breeze. My mind pulls up the memories of my progenitor – a female of the Cryzor race.

My mother was nothing like this human female. Her form was far more dangerous – hardened, sharp… she was a warrior. But something about this female's caress makes me think of her. My mother's touch was never this tender, this soft, but it was caring in its own way – a sort of fierce, affectionate ruggedness.

Images of her are vague, softened by time and the brutal conditioning of my warrior training pod. I hadn't thought of the female who birthed me in years. Once I had been placed in my pod, I focused wholly on training and surviving. I had never seen her again.

I remain silent and still, focusing entirely on the woman's touch as it trails over my skin. It gnaws at me in a way I can't grasp. So subtle yet profound at the same time. This female's tenderness weaves through the threads of distant memories – ties of a past unremembered until this moment, in her gentle, soft hands. Overwhelmed by the complexity of these unfamiliar feelings, I let my eyes slide fully shut, surrendering to the unexpected sensations these touches stir within me.

Suddenly, the female's movements falter, and she makes a noise – a slight, wounded sound, like an animal in distress. I look down to find her gaze locked onto my chest, her brows furrowed, lips slightly agape in horror. Somewhere, amidst her shock and sadness, a spark of defiant anger flickers in her eyes. I watch as she traces the edge of a scar with her finger.

I swallow hard, claws extending from my fingertips without explicit command. I can easily withstand pain, fear, and anger but her horror and sorrow make me want to fight – to defend her from whatever is causing her distress. Thankfully, she doesn't notice my claws and I force them to retract. But the question spirals in my mind: Is it the scar that unsettles her or what it represents? Is her delicate nature bothered by my disfigurements or is she upset at what I've been through? I shake away this useless pathway of thought. It matters not. I just need to heal and escape – it does not matter what this female thinks of me or what I've endured.

The female murmurs a few quiet words I wish I could understand before returning to her ministrations.

She runs the cloth up my neck, sending small rivulets of warm water trailing into the hollow at the base of my throat. With my eyes now closed, every touch is amplified to my senses. It is almost a torture. I wonder what the look on the female's face is as she gently runs the cloth along the ridge of my brow. I have to work to keep my body pliant and lax when my muscles want to become as tense and taunt as inflated solar sails.

A frisson of electricity erupts where her fingers meet my skin, the sensation sending a powerful jolt through my system. I mentally steel myself as her fingertips brush a scar marring my jaw, an old mark left from a sparring match with one of my pod-mates. The sensation of her touch is foreign and overwhelming, a stark contrast to the harsh realities I've faced.

I can't parse the feelings I'm experiencing, so I decide to ignore them for now. I can analyze them later when I'm not overwhelmed with sensation.

As she finishes washing my face, I crack my eyes open to continue to watch her. The sunlight makes her pale skin glow in the dim room. She's entrancing, this human woman, with her strange, meticulous care for a being she ought to fear.

Humans truly are an enigma.

Finally, the female finishes my bath and gently wraps me in the thick covering. With the care that she has shown me this day, I know that I will return her gesture and make sure not to injure her when I escape. She has earned my favor.