Chapter 16

She dreamt she was back in Alpha. Stuck in her room, just like she always was. The walls were warped though, and it felt like everything was melting into her. Hot, molten drops that clung to her hair and skin, pinning her in place until she couldn't breathe.

The dream shifted, warping, so she found herself walking through the streets of Alpha and everyone was looking at her. Staring. Talking. In her mind, she knew they were wondering where she had gotten off to. Clearly there was something wrong with the General's daughter if she was able to disappear for days on end.

But even in her dreams, she couldn't hear them speak. It was just the low rumble of nothingness that, no matter how hard she tried to hear, she couldn't understand.

Walking through a crowd with no understanding of what they were saying was a dangerous game to play in this place. It felt like they were all plotting against her. They wanted her out of their city, no longer their problem after all she had done. What kind of person plotted to destroy her home? She'd always been a problem, anyway.

In her dream, she walked through the streets and knew that everyone didn't want her there. They wanted a figurehead like her mother. They'd wanted the pretty little bird, caught in her cage, a creature who sang when they told her to.

Everyone wanted the golden child of the General who soaked up all their love and attention and told them in not so many words that she appreciated them. They wanted her to fawn over their generosity and allow them to play with the pretty doll she'd become.

But that wasn't what she wanted. Even as a child, she found their attention to be uncomfortable. She hated how they looked at her like she was a pet for them to indulge with treats and a soft pat to her head.

She was more than that. She'd always been more than that.

Her father approached her, a disappointed expression on his face. But when had he looked at her with anything else?

"Your mother would have been better suited," he said, and she could hear what he was saying. Of all the voices she'd forgotten, the sound of her father's was never one of them. Because he'd said these words before she lost her hearing. He'd said them right before she was the stupid one who had harmed herself so badly that he would never look at her the same way again.

And then, suddenly, she was back in that memory. The worst memory she ever had.

She was so much smaller, standing in front of the door that led to the armory where her father kept all the weapons. He stared down at her and repeated the words that had cut her to the core.

"Your mother would have been better suited," he said, his face creasing in a deep frown that made him appear so much more severe. Every time. "She would have known that even speaking about the undines in public was a foolish move. You have never failed to disappoint me, girl, and that's not something you should be proud of."

She wasn't. But he'd never made her feel proud of herself.

Anya flinched in on herself, rounding her shoulders as his hand lifted. He was going to hit her, like he always did. A sharp slap across her cheek, and no one ever mentioned that there were red marks every time they saw her. They just looked at the General and knew, with blind faith, that he would do whatever it took to keep them safe.

Even hit his own daughter.

The pain didn't come. Instead, the door to the armory opened and a young man froze in the entry way. He looked between her and her father, and she saw the pity on his face. She knew it was meant for her, and that stung so much more than she had expected.

He was handsome. Young. He had broad shoulders and a sharp jaw that she'd always found so attractive. In another circumstance, she might have cocked her teenaged hip and hoped she didn't look like a little tumble weed who had yet to grow into her body.

"Sir?" he'd asked. And oh, she hadn't thought about his voice in such a long time. It was so buttery smooth. The voice of a man who could sing and she would have been captivated by the sound of his words.

"Yes, yes," her father grumbled, leading them into the armory. "Don't touch anything, Anya. For once, keep your hands to yourself."

She'd curved even more into her body with embarrassment. Anya didn't want that young man to think she was a burden on her father. She didn't try to disappoint anyone, but sometimes she was curious and she didn't think that was such a bad thing. Curiosity made her want to see more things. To believe that she was more than just a doll for her father to set up in a corner and for other people to look at.

But then she'd seen it.

The back corner of the room had a table where all the prototypes were laid out. They were... marvelous. Beautiful. They made her want to touch things, even though her father had said not to.

For a while, she curled her hands into fists and promised herself that she would be good. This time, she'd be good.

Maybe she could ask her father's guard, who usually followed her, to bring her back. She could ask questions about the prototypes, what they were, what they were meant to do.

Her father left the room with the handsome young boy. He walked right out, leaving her standing there with her hands twisting in her pale green skirts.

No, they'd been blue. She'd been wearing her favorite blue dress with the white collar and shoes that made her feel taller. Not quite heels, because her father said she'd break her ankle, but they were black and had thin straps that made her feel so pretty.

Her father and the young man had walked out of the room and she had reached for one of the prototypes. They were usually weapons to fight against the undines and any other creature that might attack their city. But this one didn't look like a weapon at all. It was a small silver ball, with colors glowing in between the plates.

She'd thought it looked rather pretty and held it up in front of her face. There was a button on the side, she discovered. So small she might have missed it.

In her dream, she screamed at herself not to touch it. Put it down. Don't be the daughter that your father always believed you were.

But of course, she pressed the button.

An ocean of pain seared through her body. The sound that came out of that ball was so explosively loud that she felt her entire body just... stop working. In one second, she could hear the shrieking rage of her father's newest toy, and the next, nothing at all.

Just a pounding in her skull that was unlike any headache she had ever had, and a vibration in her ribs that she thought might be from the ball itself. She thought maybe she passed out, because she blinked and suddenly she was on the floor. The ball had rolled away from her grip and the first thought she had was that she had to pretend she hadn't touched anything. Her father was going to find out. He was going to kill her if she didn't pretend that none of this had happened.

Scrambling across the floor, she'd reached for it. But it was still flashing that awful red color that she'd seen right before it had made the horrible noise. So she pressed the button again, and the rattling in her ribs stopped when it went blue.

She'd thought everything was fine until she noticed movement to her left and realized that her father's mouth was moving. But she couldn't hear a word he said.

Shaking, she'd lifted her hands to her ears and when she brought them back down, her fingers were coated with blood.

God, she hated this memory. Not because she was ashamed of losing her hearing, but that it was her fault. She'd been the one to hurt herself, and she couldn't blame anyone else. Sure, her father probably shouldn't have left her in a room full of dangerous weapons. She had been a child, and leaving a kid in a room like that was bound to be terrible.

And yet, it was still her fault. She would carry that on her shoulders for the rest of her life.

Slowly, she realized there were fingers running through her hair. Not in the dream, not in that place of pain and memories that made her heart ache. No. There were fingers brushing the snarls out of her hair in the waking world.

For a second, time melded together. She must be back in Alpha, where there was a kinder maid who wanted to wake her out of a nightmare. But these fingers were broader, thicker, and there were delicate claws gently raking along her scalp.

Fingers that couldn't belong to anything other than the monstrous creature who she should be terrified of. And yet, she had never been able to bring herself to be scared of him.

Opening her eyes, she slowly rolled over to see that he had dragged himself out of the water and down the hall. His massive tail was still halfway in the hall, the fluke flat against the floor, with water dripping from the red tinged scales. He'd hooked the stump of his missing arm between the bedframe and the mattress and was gently, ever so gently, brushing her hair with his claws.

Her breath caught in her lungs. She had no idea why he was touching her, only that it made everything in her stop. All the anxiety. All the fear. All the self hatred melted out with the tension in her body as she sank into his touch.

His expression was almost serene as she turned, his gaze on the long locks of her blonde hair. She'd never seen that expression on his face, and it disappeared the moment he met her gaze with those black eyes and realized she was looking back at him.

He said something, sliding back down onto the floor and starting to push himself back with that one arm. It looked awkward and laborious and not at all what she wanted him to do.

"Wait," she said, scrambling to reach for Bitsy and before sliding the lens over her eye. "Wait, you don't have to go."

He was still moving, though, and she didn't want him to leave. Not yet. Something inside her screamed that she wanted to feel him brushing her hair again, and it wasn't fair that he'd stopped.

That touch had brought her out of a nightmare. She didn't feel like a failure when she'd woken. All she'd felt was his fingers and the glorious sensation of being touched.

"Daios, please."

He froze where he was, lying flat on the floor even as she joined him. Anya slipped out of her warm bed and sat down on the cold floor, just staring at him. She didn't know what to say. All she knew was that he had to stay, or all those feelings would come back.

"I didn't know you could be out of the water," she tried, her throat aching with the words.

His deep grunt flashed in front of her eyes, before he said, "That's what you have to say?"

"It seems like a rather surprising detail I didn't know about you, so yes."

Another grunt illustrated by a vibrating mass of coiled lines around him.

He stayed braced, leaning on one arm as all his muscles flexed to keep him upright. She thought, maybe it would be more comfortable if he would just let himself go. He didn't have to angle his body away from her. He didn't have to hide the missing arm he was clearly so embarrassed about.

Instead of saying any of that, or even trying to talk to him, she pulled the pillow off the bed and punched it a few times. Stuffing it underneath her head, she laid on the cold metal floor and wiggled her shoulders like she was getting comfortable.

Words flashed in front of her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Can you keep brushing my hair, please? It wasn't a pleasant dream and I don't feel like myself." She kept her gaze on the ceiling, hoping that he would move a little closer to her. She'd once gotten a stray dog to take food out of her hand like this before.

Just don't look at the dangerous predator, and maybe it would trust her.

There was the faintest vibration of scales rasping against the metal floor, and then the delicate feeling of his claws running through her hair. "Don't look," he said, his voice a low hum against her ear. "What was the dream?"

Of course, she was going to look when someone told her that. He froze again, his fingers in her hair still. He was stretched out as far as he could get. Flat on his belly, the stump of his arm slightly propping his body up. But his cheek rested against his bicep and his good arm reached all the way out so just his fingers were close to her.

Pillowing her own cheek on her hand, she rolled in his direction. "I'm not bothered by it, you know."

He swallowed hard. "The dream?"

"Your arm." She let her gaze actually go to the end of it, and he couldn't move to hide it. Not in this position. "It doesn't make you any less than what you already are."

Daios winced. "You are one of the few to believe that."

"Do you believe it?"

She watched the emotions flicker across his face. Surprise. Heartache. Shock that maybe he didn't.

Licking her lips, she added, "Why don't you believe it?"

"Right now?" His voice deepened even more, a rumble of some creature in the depths. She felt that dark, deep voice all the way to her very core. "Because if I was whole, I could brace myself above you and still touch you. I wouldn't have to lie on my belly just to feel the softness of your hair."

Oh.

Pressing her thighs together against the sudden rush of desire that went through her entire body, she tried very hard not to think of him braced above her. Those muscles flexing and those sharp teeth bared even though she knew he would only bite her if she wanted him to. And strangely enough, she thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he did bite her.

He was odd to look at, but he was... also very thrilling.

Swallowing hard, she nodded. "Ah. I understand."

"I don't think you do, kalon." His fingers moved in her hair, gently placing every single strand in a perfect coil to rest against her neck. "I don't think you could understand."

Whatever madness was between them, she wanted to feed it. She moved quickly, certain he wouldn't like her plan if he knew what she was doing. So with a quick bunching of muscles, she lunged for him. One moment, she was lying in front of him, and the next she'd crawled on top of him.

Daios rolled between her legs, his eyes wide with shock and his teeth bared as though he thought she was attacking him. But his fingers were so gentle on her thighs as he grabbed one with his hand.

Hands braced against his chest, she held herself safely on top of him. It wasn't where she'd thought she would end up. Especially considering he was so big her thighs were stretched a little wider than was comfortable.

And for god's sake, that made her think of things she really shouldn't be thinking of.

It took every ounce of her strength not to moan when she felt the ridged muscles of his upper abdomen pressed against her pussy. She wanted to grind down on him. To feel the undulating power of his muscles underneath her, but that wasn't what she was proving here.

"See?" she said, feeling like her voice had maybe changed a bit. It certainly had come from a much deeper part of her throat. "You don't need to brace yourself over me at all. I can do that for you."

Those dark eyes turned even darker, and she could see the hunger in him. He tried his best to stay still and not move, but that tail lashed behind her once, twice, three times before he stilled it. "And what now, kalon?"

"You can touch me without having to choose if you want to be close to me or touch." She swallowed hard. "My hair, I mean. I quite like it when you touch my hair."

Touch me everywhere, she thought. She wanted him to slide that hand up her side. She wanted to know what would happen if he cupped her breast, or if he would use those claws to rip through the fabric of her clothes.

These were dangerous thoughts. Terrible thoughts. She knew there was probably a special place for deviant women who looked at a monster and wondered what he would feel like between her thighs, but... Fuck. These were where her thoughts were.

His hand moved, but only to cup her cheek and jaw in that massive palm. "So many thoughts running through your head right now. I wonder why."

She couldn't tell him what she was really thinking. He'd... maybe do something neither of them could come back from.

"I just don't understand why you don't like what you look like." She tapped the side of the droid on her head. "I wear this. You're missing an arm. But I don't think less of myself because I can't hear what people are saying."

His brows furrowed. "I have no interest in talking about the loss of my arm."

"I'm not asking how you lost it. I'm asking why you hate it so much."

She was pushing him. Too far, considering the coiled tension beneath her, that only made her think about what it would be like if he was tense for another reason.

The frown on his face was one of his tells, but so were the bunched up muscles of his traps. Anya blamed sleep deprivation for the reason why she wanted to run her fingers over that strange, gray skin and see if it was as soft as it looked.

Instead, she used her fingers for something else. Something to distract the both of them. Flicking her fingers and twisting her hands in a repetitive motion. A word, a name, words that needed no sound.

He watched the movement with narrowed eyes. "I have seen you do this before, but not often. What does it mean?"

"That meant... uh... Big man," she said, her cheeks burning. "Or, Daios. I suppose."

"What is the language?"

"Sign." She shrugged. "It's hard to remember all of it. Like any language, the less you use it, the less easy it is to remember. There are only a few people with hearing issues in Alpha, and most of us have a droid like Bitsy. But I remember a lot of it."

She signed with every word that she said, watching as his eyes flew with her fingers.

He watched every single word with rapt attention before saying, "It is a beautiful language."

Anya grinned. "I think so, too. I like talking with my hands."

"I would ask you to teach me, kalon, but..." He released his grasp on the side of her cheek and lifted his single hand between them.

But no, that wouldn't do at all. She grabbed his fingers in hers and gently lifted his knuckles to her lips. With a soft kiss on the back of those deadly claws, she met his dark-eyed gaze and said, "You can still sign with one hand."

He looked up at her like she'd told him that she could give him back his arm. Or maybe, just maybe, that expression meant that he was grateful to her for not making him feel less than.

She didn't know. All she knew was that it made her squirm on top of him until he grabbed her thigh once more. Those thick, broad fingers squeezed hard before he growled, "Show me."

If she had to spend the rest of the night teaching him the basics of sign, she would. Because right now, in the darkness of this abandoned facility, all she wanted was to spend time with this curious man who had captured her attention.