Strange Love

by Ann Aguirre

  One of Kurr’s fronds wrapped around her arm, tugging in excitement. “Look, Zylar’s opening his puzzle box!”

  “Already?” she said, leaning forward for a better look.

  Admittedly, she had no clue how complex the mechanisms were, but this seemed like a good time. He wasn’t the first, of course, but the host hadn’t sounded too excited about any of the prizes. Now he was churring, loud enough that the whole arena could hear.

  “Incredible! Zylar of Kith B’alak has uncovered an antique tablet, a find fit for a cultural display. What secrets will it reveal? Scholars are longing to learn!”

  Wait, the writing was…ancient Tiralan? If she recalled correctly, his actual intended had been Tiralan. She couldn’t remember the name, but it seemed like he might have spent months studying to impress…whoever he had meant to pick up. Instead of me. That gave her a weird feeling, not quite jealousy, but sort of uncomfortable, like maybe jealousy-adjacent? Beryl imagined Zylar staying up late, learning how to greet the family in fluent Tiralan, and—

  Would he rather have a Tiralan partner? I bet that person can read Barathi, at least.

  She had been pushing forward, trying to make the best of things, but now she wondered if he was doing the same, if he ever wished his plan had unfolded correctly. Really, all her success so far could be attributed to luck. It wasn’t like she’d known how necessary the alliance with Kurr would prove to be.

  “Don’t be sad,” Snaps said, licking her face. “It’s okay.”

  Whatever his other issues, the dog was damn good at reading her moods. She mustered a smile and rubbed the top of his head. “Yeah, I’m okay. Zylar did great, huh?”

  “He opened the box, but there’s nothing to eat,” Snaps mumbled.

  “How are you still hungry? We just had breakfast!”

  “A dog can always eat,” Snaps said.

  The alarm sounded, signaling the end of the first challenge. Three Chosen didn’t manage to open a box at all, so that would impact their rankings. Chaos reigned on the field as the judges conferred about the worth of various discoveries, leaving the contestants to mill around. She noticed that Zylar seemed to be talking to Kurr’s Chosen.

  “Looks like they’ve made friends too,” she said to the Greenspirit.

  “Arleb mentioned that he planned to thank Zylar for letting me experience the garden. Though my people have grown beyond the need for roots, self-indulgence can be…soothing.”

  “So, it’s like a spa day,” Beryl said.

  “I do not understand.”

  She stifled a sigh. “Never mind.”

  Half of humor related to shared context and the other half was timing, so most of her jokes didn’t land these days. She tried not to be homesick, but when she thought about it—really deep down contemplated the facts—she could curl up in the fetal position and just cry until there were no tears left. They were trying to fix the AI that had the coordinates leading back to Earth, but she didn’t have high hopes. If Helix couldn’t be restored, then…

  I’ll never eat another cheeseburger. Never watch Netflix. Never see a sunset on Earth.

  She was sitting next to a freaking sentient plant with another alien on her left, while more aliens ran around in front of her. Currently, she was breathing alien air, courtesy of alien tech, and wow, yeah, it was…a lot. Breathe, she told herself. You’ve come this far. Don’t lose it now. The air even smelled different when she analyzed it, full of chemicals and combinations that had no human equivalent. Sometimes it was like cayenne pepper, and sometimes there was a soft sweetness that came from Kurr’s fronds.

  Finally, the host spoke again, thankfully disrupting her depressing thoughts. “We have our initial standings!”

  Though Zylar didn’t place first, he took fifth with the average of his performance, and Beryl yelled louder than anyone, not caring about the looks she drew. Especially from fucking Ryzven. Though really, she should apologize to that jackass. Otherwise, he’d probably make life uncomfortable. People with power and big egos tended to operate that way.

  When the audience started leaving, she set Snaps down and kept a good hold of his leash. “Come on, let’s go say sorry.”

  “But I’m not!” Snaps said.

  “Welcome to my world.”

  Beryl caught up with Ryzven near the exit. Normally, she would have headed to the holding area for competitors to wait for Zylar; she hoped he understood this move and wouldn’t mind if she did a little ass-kissing. The brightly patterned Barathi studied her with body language she couldn’t read, waiting for her to speak.

  It’s for the greater good.

  “Do you have a moment?” she asked.

  A flutter of the opaque eye membrane, then Ryzven said, “You would speak with me?”

  “Yes, I wanted to apologize. Snaps was rude, and I think we may have gotten off to a bad start. I’d like to make amends if I can.”

  “This is no place for such overtures. Accompany me to a more suitable locale?”

  Ugh. Beryl didn’t want to go off with Ryzven, especially without telling Zylar, but she’d initiated this contact and if she was curt to him—again—it would undo this attempt at conciliation. Gritting her teeth, she faked a smile, belatedly remembering that Zylar had said it registered as a display of power, not a friendly one. Ryzven’s neck ruff frilled a little, and now that she knew what that meant—

  Yuck. Hard pass.

  She wasn’t up for close encounters of the alien kind with this Barathi. Stalling had to be the best move. “Where did you have in mind? And will it be all right if Snaps goes with us? I can’t leave him alone.”

  Before Ryzven could reply, there came a sound from behind them, a sort of growl, and Zylar stepped in front of her. “Why are you attempting to lure my intended yet again?”

  [ 13 ]

  Zylar had never despised Ryzven as much as he did right then.

  The urge toward violence surged through him, even though he knew that the kith would not side with him, should the situation escalate. Beryl stepped between them and set a grabber on his thorax; he couldn’t feel it, but he understood her intentions. He stilled.

  “It’s a misunderstanding,” she said. “I brought Snaps over so we could both apologize for being rude. That’s all.”

  That might be true, but he couldn’t bring himself to step back. “Have you accepted their apologies?” he asked curtly.

  “You did not give me the chance, nest-mate.” Ryzven might sound calm and amused, but his eyes said he would rather finish what Zylar had almost started.

  “Continue,” he bit out, though every instinct called for him to put as much distance as possible between Ryzven and Beryl.

  He could read his nest-mate’s inclinations well, and this flavork had more than a passing interest in her, only intensified by her apparent loyalty. Ryzven would soon view her as a challenge, if he didn’t already, and that didn’t bode well for a peaceful completion of the Choosing. Zylar fought a wave of sheer nerves; he couldn’t lose again. Couldn’t lose her.

  “That’s all I meant to say. I hope we can start over and that you won’t hold onto bad feelings about Snaps and me,” Beryl said.

  “Since you are brave enough to admit your mistakes, it would be paltry of me not to forgive you,” Ryzven said. “Before, I had invited you to a gathering. You will certainly accept my goodwill this time?” Despite the pleasant tone, Zylar understood that wasn’t a request, more of a demand for compliance.

  But would Beryl grasp that?

  She stepped a little closer to Zylar, and he responded instinctively, pulling her against him in a protective gesture that came from the depths of his being. Then she said, “It’s fine with me as long as we don’t already have plans. Zylar?”

  Oh, that was clever. Ryzven hadn’t included him in the invitation, but now there was no polite way for his nest-mate to exclude him. Zylar churred. “Your parties are famous,” he said deliberately. “I would love to partake of these great amusements, so we a
ccept gladly.”

  “I’ll send word when the arrangements are finalized,” Ryzven muttered.

  The fact that he left without a final flattering word for Beryl spoke of how annoyed he was. Snaps watched him go, then said, “I hate that guy.”

  “So do I,” Beryl said.

  “I appreciate your attempt at appeasement, but please don’t seek him out alone again. He is…” Zylar hesitated, unsure how to phrase the objection. “Not to be trusted.”

  “You think he might abduct me?” Beryl asked.

  The mere thought sent a chill through him. “Not precisely, but I fear he may become even more enamored of you, and then he’ll seek a lawful way to take you from me.”

  “You think they’d let him do that?”

  “Ryzven always gets what he wants,” he said somberly. “Always.”

  Her face contorted into an expression he couldn’t read easily, but then she slammed her furled grabber against the open one, resulting in a martial sound. “Not this time.”

  Zylar treasured her devotion and her loyalty, but the more tightly they bonded, the more he feared losing her. After tasting bliss with Beryl, he didn’t think he could survive another failure. It wasn’t the prospect of living out the reminder of his life as a drone, but the joyless prospect of an existence without her? Unbearable.

  “Let’s go home,” he said.

  “Could we take Snaps to the garden first?”

  It was such a small request. He was tired from the competition and from restraining his antipathy, but he could refuse her nothing. “Of course. That is becoming our custom.”

  With one hand, she held Snap’s lead, and with the other, she clutched at Zylar. Her open affection warmed him all over, and he slammed the door in his mind where all the dire, terrible fates lived, whispering of doom and separation. We deserve a happy ending. We’ve already come so far together.

  “Walking like this is such a couple thing to do on my world,” Beryl said.

  “Joined, like so?” He lifted his forelimb where she had latched onto him.

  “Yes, do you mind?”

  “Not at all. The habit is a little strange, but I have acclimated to your ways.”

  “Don’t bonded nest-guardians spend time together outside the house?”

  He thought about that. “They are more occupied with keeping their young safe and healthy until development is complete.”

  “And before they’re officially approved, they see each other mostly at the Choosing?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  She let out an airy sound. “I don’t know. It just all seems so strange, like they wouldn’t know each other that well at all before they end up committed for life.”

  “It’s different on your world?”

  “Very. Although I must admit, it doesn’t always work out, even if you thought you’ve gotten to know the person well.”

  “Hurry,” said Snaps. “I need to use it.”

  Zylar quickened his step, recalling that the fur-person had no qualms about eliminating wherever he might be, if the issue became urgent. Fortunately, they made it in time, and Snaps went there. Then he trotted off to check on the seeds he’d planted with Kurr.

  “Hey! They’re growing! Come look!”

  Beryl tugged and Zylar followed, rushing through the garden to inspect the tiny, green shoots. Snaps pranced in a circle, rear extensor whipping wildly, and she knelt to rub him all over, until the fur-person flopped on his side and got even more caresses.

  “Good job,” she said.

  “I buried something and it turned into something else! Will they change again if I dig?” Snaps crept closer, but Beryl grabbed him.

  “Don’t dig up the plants! You want to see them grow up, right? These are your responsibility now.”

  Snaps fell back onto his butt, staring at the seedlings with wide eyes. “Am I…a father?”

  “Sort of,” Beryl said.

  Zylar churred, amusement overwhelming him.

  Then Snaps lay down in front of the plants with a determined sound. “I will protect you, tiny green dirt dogs.”

  He drew Beryl away gently. “What have you done? He thinks those are his nestlings. We may not be able to get him to leave.”

  “I’ll figure something out. At least he’s not digging up the garden.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Shall we walk?”

  Instead of taking his forelimb when he offered it, she stared up at him. “I wish I could ___ you.”

  “That didn’t translate.”

  “It’s an Earth custom for showing affection. Never mind.”

  “Terrible One, I’m most willing to receive affection from you in whatever form you wish to bestow it. If I find the delivery method strange, I believe I can adapt.”

  “Then hold still.”

  She closed the distance between them and reached for his head. He lowered it reflexively, and she put her talking part close to his mandibles, so he could feel it intimately when she breathed. Her proximity reminded him of how good she’d made him feel, and his thorax tingled. Then she shifted, touching him until she found a small gap in his chitin between his neck and shoulder, a vulnerability an enemy could exploit. He had no fear about Beryl discovering it. Zylar let her angle his head so she could reach that spot.

  A starburst of heat began when she touched her mouth to that softness. It felt so good that he almost pulled away in shock, but Zylar stilled, remembering his promise to adapt to her brand of affection. But this, this felt almost too good to be believed. The heat moved in soft circles, sometimes gentle, sometimes a little firmer, but it always felt exquisite. The tingling in his thorax brightened, and he fought the urge to let his plates part so she could have access to his sex organs. They were already swelling internally, tempted by the promise of more pleasure. His mind went to a wild place, imagining her using her eating part there, as she had on his defensive spines, his neck ruff, and now, his throat. That idea was so deviant, but pure lust suffused him, and his lower limbs nearly gave out.

  Suddenly he realized that while they were in a private area, the garden was still accessible to all kith. Most likely he shouldn’t allow anyone to see how freely she touched him. Human affection wasn’t the same as Barathi sex, but he couldn’t risk a scandal. Trembling a little, he stepped back, breaking contact.

  “You didn’t like it?” she asked.

  “No, it’s…lovely. Strange and lovely. But we shouldn’t do this here.”

  “Oh. Right. Rules.”

  “Show me more in our quarters,” he said, hoping to mitigate the faint disappointment he sensed in her. “I’ll welcome anything you care to share with me then.”

  She bared her teeth at him. “Anything? Be careful. I could get a little wild.”

  Beryl had to pick Snaps up to get him to leave his “babies,” and the dog whined all the way back to their room.

  By the time they got there, she was tired from wrestling him, and she was starting to feel a bit embarrassed about the way she couldn’t keep her hands off Zylar. If he expected them to resume the foreplay, she didn’t know if she was up for it, and now she had the awkward job of explaining why. But as she stepped into their quarters, all thoughts of that evaporated.

  Because the shared nest she’d designed had been completed and was now hanging from the ceiling, using the tensile fiber Zylar had created.

  Beryl smiled, unable to help it. “When did you do this?”

  “I sent the request as soon as you rendered the concept,” he said. “Have I done well?”

  “Yes. It’s exactly like I imagined. Let me clean up, and then we can test it out.”

  She hurried her nightly hygiene ritual, put the bedding she had made into the hammock, then crawled in herself. It felt a little strange, but it would be nice to sleep with Zylar instead of having him in a separate room. Hopefully this wasn’t an infraction that would get them in trouble with the Choosing officiants. If something went wrong at this point and she had to leave Zylar, she
had no clue how she’d bear it.

  “Pick me up,” said Snaps.

  Hmm, sleeping with a dog in a movable, hanging bed might not be the best plan, but she couldn’t resist his pitiful eyes. Sighing, she leaned over and plopped him at her feet. Since he was used to curling up there, he did so here as well, circling three times, then dozing off with a quickness only trusting dogs possessed.

  That’s one problem solved.

  “Comfortable?” Zylar asked.

  Beryl rolled over. She hadn’t even heard him come in. “It’s wonderful. Come and find out for yourself.”

  “You wish to nest with me already?”

  “Didn’t you have it made so we could start sleeping together? Or have I made a bad assumption?” God, why she was always the eager one, asking for more intimacy?

  I’m developing a complex.

  He went still, like she had accused him of something. Finally he said, “It is most presumptive on my part, but I did hope you would want to share it with me, even before—”

  “Before we’re officially approved,” she guessed.

  “Yes.”

  But he still didn’t move, and his uncertainty was freaking adorable. It seemed like he shared both her faint embarrassment and her eagerness.

  “Come to bed, Zylar. Since I’ve already made my choice, I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Choosing.”

  “I don’t understand everything you said, but the translator says you chose me. That is more than enough.”

  The hammock swayed as he slid in, and the support webbing made it possible for him to settle upright. She tucked the stuffed bedding between them and then snuggled up against his side. It was better than she’d imagined, especially when he rested his claw on her head and gently raked through her hair. Tingles radiated outward, the top of her head, her neck, her spine, diffusing at her hips, and her nipples got hard.