Kwarq (Lyqa Planet Lovers Book 1)

by Clarke, Nikki

  A loud roar sounds from the speakers arranged around the large screening room, and I focus my eyes back on the film. In this story, a young woman falls in love with all kinds of fantasy beings. A vampire. A werewolf. A fairy of some kind. I’m not really paying attention. I’m listening. As a Lyqa, my hearing is probably better than any animal’s on this planet, and right now, it’s tuned in to the wistful breaths of the woman sitting across the isle from me.

  I still don’t know her name, but I’ve followed her for the past two months, and I know she loves these kinds of movies. She loves any kind of movie, but she particularly enjoys movies about love. They move her. She sits through them, letting happy little sighs float from her mouth. I turn my head slightly to peek at her from the corner of my eye. Her eyelashes shimmer with unshed tears. I can smell their salty reverence.

  “Oh, no.”

  Her voice is an anguished whimper as she clutches her hands to her chest when the wolf is felled by an arrow. Her eyes go wide with fear, and it makes me smile. We all know he’s not dead. Even I know it’s just a tactic to create suspense, but my lehti is consumed by the anticipation. Her chest rises and falls heavily as we wait for the wolf to leap to its feet and reveal that he is unharmed after all.

  “Thank god.”

  Her voice is barely audible, but I hear it. Just as I feel the longing pour off of her. It crashes over me, warm and intense like a solar pulse, as it does every time I’m near her. I turn my head back to the screen, but my mind is still across the isle. I don’t know if I can wait much longer before revealing myself to her. To see if she feels what I’ve been feeling since she passed me on that bus two months ago.

  Chapter 2

  Amina

  “You must really like movies.”

  Movie Bae nearly jumps out of his skin. His eyes go comically wide in his golden face, and I can’t help but laugh a little. I didn’t think he was so caught up in the film that he wouldn’t feel me slide into the seat next to him. It’s not that great of a movie. Some cheesy, supernatural teenage love affair shit, but I’m a sucker for a sappy love story even when it’s so cliche’ it makes my eyes roll.

  “I’ve seen you before, right? I think we go to a lot of the same movies. You were at Zombie Fest last week, weren’t you?”

  He stares at me, his mouth opening and closing, but nothing coming out. Then suddenly his face freezes and he leans away from me.

  “Uh…,” I stall, not really knowing what else to say now that I have his attention. I’m not really the try and talk to a stranger type, but I’ve been low-key crushing on this man since I first saw him. Maybe I miscalculated, but for the past couple of months, I’ve felt more and more compelled to say something to him. I don’t know why. I just feel like we should talk.

  At first, I thought our shared movie interests was just a coincidence. But lately, I’ve realized that Movie Bae is there every time I go to the show. Any theater, anywhere. I turn my head and there he is, eating a big ass bag of popcorn. I thought that was strange, but then, some people just really like movies. I should know, I’m one of them, and that seemed like a great jumping off point for a conversation a moment ago. Now it just feels weird. My shoulders hunch in embarrassment, but I attempt a smile anyway.

  “Was that a dumb question?”

  Movie Bae still doesn’t respond. The only way I know he’s even listening to me is from the rapid movement of his eyes as they dart across my face. His failure to answer my question doesn’t stop me from noticing again just how fucking fine he is. My heart wobbles a bit as the sharp, swirling yellow of his eyes locks on mine. Not hazel. I’ve seen hazel. His eyes are yellow. The only variation in color is a feather of shimmering amber at the edges. They’re bright and shining. They make him look kind and a little wild.

  I squirm in my seat under his intense stare. It’s not just the strangeness of his good looks, which are at the same time familiar and confusing. There’s something about him that speaks to me. The moment his eyes meet mine, I feel I could burst into the sizzling pop of a fire cracker. I’m again assaulted by the feeling that I need to know the man.

  My heart is going crazy in my chest. Movie Bae’s eyes flick down to the space between my boobs, and I press a hand against my breastbone afraid that he can hear it.

  And still, he hasn’t say anything. He’s breathing hard, though. Deep, filling breaths that huff forcefully out of his nose. I quickly recognize them as the exasperated sighs of someone who doesn’t want to be bothered. A cringe runs through me, snuffing out my bit of excitement. I get it. I don’t exactly come to the movies to socialize, either. I rise, keeping my back hunched over so I don’t block the screen for the people behind us.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you,” I mumble, not meeting his eyes, and scuttle back across the isle. His gaze stays on me as I settle back into my seat and fold my body in as much as I can. For a long time, he continues to watch me. His eyes are two bright flames in my peripheral vision. I will him to look away, but he doesn’t. He keeps staring. So I huddle further into my seat and wait for the movie to end.

  An eternity later, the movie is finally over, and I have no idea what happened. Did that silly little tenth grader win the battle to save her supernatural boyfriend? Is she really in love with her werewolf neighbor? I don’t know, but I do know that Movie Bae is still lurking.

  Before the credits even roll or the lights go on, I’m out of my seat and rushing up the isle to the door in the back of the theater. The searing burn of mortification is trying to twist it’s way out of my body, and I wrap my coat closely around my middle to stamp that shit out.

  Ugh. Why did I even talk to him?

  I half jog to the exit at the end of hallway and launch myself against the release bar, stumbling out onto State Street.

  It’s late. Well after eleven. The movie didn’t start until a little after nine, and I probably should have anticipated this, but I really didn’t think it would take so long to tell a story about a high schooler who’s in love with a dog. Now I kind of wish I watched movies at a decent time like most sensible people. Unfortunately, I love a late show.

  For one, I can always find a seat, and I don’t have to worry about people blabbing through the film. The only major downfall, however, is that once the movie is over, I still have to make my way home. At night. On the number four. All the way to the Southside.

  I’ve been walking quickly, and I make it to the end of the block in no time. I turn the corner, and my feet automatically falter.

  “Shit.”

  The block in front of me is dark and deserted. Two streets ahead, I can see the glass shelter of my bus stop. A few people are illuminated beneath the flickering yellow-tinged light, but between me and them, there’s nothing but the waiting shadows of the South Loop. The next bus to come is the last for the night, so, unfortunately, I can’t wait for people to happen along and make the walk less scary, so I square up and take a deep breath.

  “Alright, Amina, you gotta catch the damn bus, so just go,” I murmur to myself before sucking in another brave breath and starting up the street.

  I’ll confess, I’m scary. I have no problem admitting it. I put on a brave face, but on the inside, I’m cowering in a corner. That’s why when I catch the sudden movement of a stray cat huddled by a dumpster in the alley to my right, it takes all of my effort not to scream and tear down the street. I try to keep my senses in tune to anything that doesn’t look right. I move quickly, but make a conscious effort to keep from appearing too frantic.

  “If you look scary, people will try to scare you.”

  It’s a constant reminder. I conjure all of my confidence and walk at an easy stride. You have time to make it to the bus, I tell myself. You’re safe. Nothing is going to happen to you. I’ve nearly managed to convince myself when I hear the soft, even paced footsteps of someone behind me.

  Kwarq

  She’s scared. Her fear is like a thick fog in front of me. I follow it, keeping an eye o
ut for any dangers that may be waiting for her. When I pass the mouth of an alley, a frail, skittish feline slithers beneath a garbage receptacle.

  “If you look scary, people will try to scare you.”

  I smile and snort out a low chuckle. My poor lehti. She’s so brave and also so afraid of nearly everything. Every day I watch her move about this city with her head held high, forcing herself to appear courageous. At the same time, I can smell every bit of her apprehension. In my time following her, I’ve come to realize that my lehti tends to scare herself more than respond to any actual threat that may be coming her way. Not that it matters. I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to her.

  I know the moment she hears me fall in line behind her because her scent turns acrid. Fear is bitter to the nose. It takes over quickly and sours any good feelings that were there before. As I trail her, her usual light, sweet feeling is sharp. I can hear her heart beating fast from the nearly ten yards between us. Her legs move at a regular pace, but the jerkiness of her steps signals she would rather be running.

  I slow until I lag behind her a bit more. When she’s a half block from her bus stop, her heart begins to settle and she relaxes. The nervousness leaves her stride. I also relax.

  I don’t like it when she smells like fear. Earlier tonight, she smelled like the light rain of the day before and some sweet oil she uses in her hair. Now all of those lovely scents are being overpowered by her desire to reach safety.

  I wish I could tell her that she doesn’t have to fear me or anyone. That I have followed her every single day for the past two months to keep her safe. That I sit in the cafe across from the business where she works and drink bitter coffee for eight hours a day to make sure she isn’t hurt or accosted in some way. Then at night, I sit in my little rented room a block away from her apartment and feel out to her periodically just to assure myself she sleeps comfortably. I wish I could tell her these things, but unfortunately, I missed my chance when she sat next to me earlier.

  She caught me off guard. I’ve kept a comfortable distance from her all of this time, afraid of scaring her, but also waiting for the best opportunity to reveal myself. Finally having her that close was overwhelming. She’d smelled shy and nervous, but there had also been a hint of playfulness and anticipation coming off of her. It was amazing. The scent had filled my nose and shot straight down to my cock.

  I’d been unable to form an appropriate response to her question with the blood rushing to my lap. In that moment, I was glad her sight in the dark isn’t so good. I researched human anatomy, and I know Lyqa men and human men are nearly the same anatomically, but I imagine that even on this planet an unwelcome erection is a threatening thing for a woman. I could have howled like that ridiculous boy in the movie when she apologized and went back to her seat, but I was also glad for the moment to collect myself. I will do better next time. Now that I knew what to expect.

  Up ahead, my lehti reaches the corner and looks both ways before dashing across the street. In the distance, cruising slowly closer, I see our bus. She has only just made it. Any later and she would have had to take a hired car home. I’ve seen her do this. Stand at the curb, pacing nervously back and forth, until her ride arrives. Even then, she is on alert as she slides into the stranger’s car and doesn’t relax until she safely reaches her home.

  I side step into the shadowed entrance of a closed shop as the bus pulls to a stop at the corner. The few people waiting file in line to board, and my lehti steps up last, disappearing from view.

  I still can’t believe she spoke to me. She sat next to me and spoke to me during the movie, even though I know how she hates it when people talk during films. I’ve heard her deep sighs of annoyance when someone answers a cellphone or leans into a seat mate to loudly comment on what’s happening on the screen.

  The doors to the bus close. The driver pulls away from the curb, and I have a split second to decide before I’m sprinting across the street to cut them off. I plant myself in the path of the bus, waving my hands in the air until it comes to an abrupt, skidding halt. On the other side of the windshield, the driver’s eyes bulge from their sockets.

  I calmly walk to the closed doors, his eyes trailing me until I stand at the entrance to the bus. He doesn’t open the doors right away. He only stares at me through the glass. I nod my head, indicating I would like to board, and he finally pulls the lever, prompting the doors’ hydraulics to fold them in with a loud expulsion of air.

  “I apologize, I didn’t mean to cause you danger, but you are the last bus, and I did not want to miss it.” I step on board, ducking under the short roof the the bus.

  The driver’s large eyes roam over me as he pushes out a shaky laugh. “No problem, brother. It’s cool. You just scared me a bit. You’re fast as hell. You run track in high school?”

  I don’t know what track is, but I nod. I’ve found this is the safest thing to do when someone is trying to justify those things about me they can’t explain.

  “Woo, man, you must have. I thought Usain Bolt had jumped in front of my bus!” He cackles loudly, and I smile in reassurance while digging into my pockets for the transit card that I have loaded with the replica American money I make in my pod.

  The system of currency on Earth is strange. I find I am often unable to predict the value of things. The bus ride, for instance, costs nearly as much as many food items. The first time I rode a bus, I mistakenly thought it was a free service provided to citizens and was loudly accosted by the driver.

  I swipe my card through the electronic pad on the payment stand and turn to the inside of the bus, my eyes finding my lehti instantly. She’s sitting near the back, looking out of the window. From the side, her eyebrows appear drawn down in concentration, even though I know there is nothing outside that could be of particular interest.

  As I make my way through the isle, I feel out to her. She isn’t scared anymore, but she is on edge. It’s late, and even though I’m watching her, I know there are any number of legitimate dangers for a young human woman to watch out for.

  In my short time on Earth, I’ve noticed many troubling things about the way men and women interact. The female humans of this planet seem to be in a constant state of nervousness, and after careful study, I’ve realized that it’s because the males are inclined to accost them both verbally and physically at every moment. They yell things to them on the street, even when it’s clear that the woman is not interested. Even when her feelings are so obvious that I cringe with the awkwardness of it. I’ve witnessed men grab and poke women. I’ve seen the terrified eyes of girls as they move about the city, trying desperately to avoid the gazes of men, the same way one would a rabid animal. This is a reality I find sickening and shameful. It is a reality I don’t like my lehti existing in. It is a reality I would remove her from if she asked me to.

  She’s placed her purse on the seat next to her. It’s a clever way to ensure she’s unbothered by a seat mate. Her head is still turned, but her reflected frown deepens. I don’t like it. I feel out to her again, and there is something besides nervousness there. It’s like shame, but not. It’s closer to embarrassment. I wonder why she should feel this way. Who has made my lehti feel humiliated?

  I’m still staring when she turns suddenly, and her gaze meets mine. Her face brightens. Her delicately arched eyebrows jumping on her forehead. A smile pulls at her mouth just as I see the muscles of her face tense to keep from showing it. That feeling of embarrassment becomes more intense, and I hope I have not shamed her by looking so openly. I shift my gaze away, looking instead at the floor in front of me.

  She fills more and more of my vision as I get closer. When I’m two seats away, she reaches over and lifts the purse from the seat beside her, settling it in her lap. My eyes flicker up, and she holds my gaze. Her shy smile is warm and inviting.

  Twice in one day, my lehti has surprised me by extending an opportunity for interaction. First, she disregarded her own movie etiquette by speaking to me duri
ng the film, and now she’s offering me a seat. My eyes scan the rest of the bus. It’s nearly empty. I could sit where I want, but she’s offering me the seat beside her. The brief moment in the theater when she settled in next to me, arresting me with her lovely energy, comes back, and all I want is to feel that again.

  I’ve just decided I will take her offer when her face changes. Her eyebrows pull down. Her lovely mouth tips at the corners. She’s so expressive. She can show happiness, sadness, and excitement in a moment’s turn. I wonder what’s wrong right before I realize that, in my daze, I have walked past her row. I pause, not sure if I should turn back or continue down the isle. My feet shift forward then back, until I have no choice but to reluctantly settle into a seat just behind and across from her.

  The second I sit down, she turns her head quickly back to the front. Again, that feeling of embarrassment is there, even stronger than before. I realize now that she must see my failure to respond to her in the theater and my seeming rejection of her seat offer to mean that I am not interested, but she couldn’t be more wrong.

  Chapter 3

  Amina

  Movie Bae is breaking my heart. For like two seconds, I thought he was going to sit next to me.

  I’ve never seen him on this bus before. It seemed too much like fate that he got on tonight. I thought maybe it was the universe giving me a second chance to strike up a conversation, even though I’m still salty about my first attempt. And then he looked right at me. I thought I sensed interest there. Maybe not.