Orishok entered the building of making and went straight to the storage area. He wasn’t certain which blocks contained what he was after, so he opened them one at a time. The third contained more clothing, and sight of it sent Orishok’s mind back to Quinn, giving him pause.
He found a garment the same color as the one she was wearing and brushed his fingertips over it. Smooth and soft, it was unlike anything he’d known before Kelsharn. But what he truly wanted to know was what it would feel like with Quinn’s body beneath, with her heat pulsing through. A now-familiar warmth spread from his heartstone.
She was wholly unlike the females of his kind, and yet she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. It was more than her being the first female in so long, more than her being his first company after years of loneliness. An undeniable vitality burned bright inside her, despite her circumstances, and the way she looked at him...
Quinn looked at Orishok like he was another living thing, too, even knowing what he was.
Withdrawing his hand, he closed the block and continued his search. Eventually, he found what he was after — fresh blankets of varying thickness, untouched by the ravages of time — and gathered it up in a large bundle. On his way to the exit, he surveyed the work tables, stopping when he found one that suited his needs. He removed the clothing he’d borrowed from Quinn and selected a long strip of dark cloth.
He folded and wrapped the fabric around his waist and pelvis, fashioning the sort of covering his people had worn during the summers. It felt strange now — he couldn’t remember the last time he’d clothed himself in the old way — but also right.
Orishok added Quinn’s clothing to the bundle of blankets before he left the building and returned to their shared shelter.
Entering the room quietly, he paused only once beside her pal et to check on her. She’d moved in her slumber; she lay on her back, arms drawn up with her hands on either side of her head. Her face was turned to her right, and strands of pale hair rested on her cheek.
He walked to the bed, set down the armful of blankets, and unraveled the mess, spreading them one-by-one over the surface. They weren’t all the right size —a few were too small, and one hung over the edges by a hand’s length, at least — but they would do. She wouldn’t need to sleep on the floor anymore.
After placing the clothing he’d borrowed in her pile of garments, he left again. This time, he only went a few rooms down the hallway. He returned a short while later, two heat stones tucked under his left arm and one in his right hand, only to leave again when he set them down.
He stopped to survey his work after a few more trips. Though the room hadn’t changed in size, it felt smaller with the extra items inside. He hoped that’d be a good thing. These were the quarters of a living being, of the Queen of Bahmet. Not another chamber in a massive burial ground.
Orishok walked to Quinn and crouched beside her. With more gentleness than he’d ever utilized, he slipped his arms beneath her. He rose with equal care. Her right arm, the farthest from his chest, straightened and hung outward. He froze, convinced he’d woken her.
Quinn did not stir.
He carried her to the bed, the dangling ends of her blankets brushing over his bare thighs. The sensation was distant and muted. But the warmth she radiated, that was an immediate feeling, truer than anything he’d experienced before. Finally, he laid her atop the bed.
His arms lingered beneath her until he forced himself to draw away. She was not truly of his tribe or of his people, he knew, but the females of his old life had taught their men well — the choice belonged to the females, regardless of how strong or deserving a man thought he was. Orishok could only try to convince her he was worthy.
Heartstone blazing, he returned to usual place by the window to wait out the remainder of the night.
QUINN WOKE SLOWLY, confused; her hair and clothing were damp and plastered to her clammy skin. It reminded her of the miserable nights during the summer, years ago, when the climate control in her apartment building had been acting up. She shoved the blankets off. The floor moved beneath her.
She sat up quickly, groaning and pressing a hand to her head when vertigo hit. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rode out the wave of dizziness.
When the feeling passed, she realized that she was looking down at the couches and centerpiece in the middle of the room. Somehow, she’d made it onto the bed, but the damaged bedding that had covered it was gone. Instead, she was atop thick, soft blankets, of the same quality as the ones she’d taken from the storage closet beside the bed. As she shifted, the bed gave way beneath her weight, forming around her body to cushion it.
A splash of color in her periphery caught her attention; she ran her eyes over the walls, where large swatches of bright fabric hung like banners from an ancient castle on Earth. There were two more pedestals positioned on either side of the bed with glowing stones atop them. Between the extra stones and the morning light streaming in, the entire room seemed more vibrant, more alive, than it ever had.
“Good morning, Quinn,” Orishok said, drawing her eye to the window. It took a moment for her vision to adjust and focus on him against the bright sky beyond.
“You did all this while I slept?”
“I did not want to disturb you. You seemed very tired, and it was just carrying things from other places to this one.”
She must have been exhausted to have not woken when he moved her. “It’s really nice.”
“Anything to bring you some joy.”
Quinn studied Orishok as she scooted toward the end of the bed. Her skirt bunched around her thighs; she tugged it down and hopped to the floor. “Orishok?”
He tilted his head. “Yes?”
“You do know you’re free, right? That I’m not...asking you to serve me in any way?”
“I am not serving you, Quinn. I have nowhere else I can go. No one else I can be near. My touch is death for all but you. I do not know why, only that it is so. You have brought the only joy to Bahmet it has ever known, and it makes me happy to bring you more.”
Quinn wasn’t sure how to take that. She was basically the last woman on the planet as far as Orishok was concerned, but he was treating her with care and consideration. That someone gave enough of a damn about her to go through such trouble was touching. She hadn’t felt like this since her parents passed away.
It wasn’t like Quinn had anywhere else to go, either. There were dangerous animals on this planet, and, if there were other survivors, there could be guards among them. A situation like this didn’t necessarily mean a sudden change of status. She was a convict. A murderer. That was all she’d be to the rest of them.
But to Orishok...she was more. She was a companion. A friend.
“It was very sweet of you to do all this.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“And...suh weet is good?”
“Yes. Sweet is very good. Like the riverfruit.”
He smiled back at her. “Quinn is sweet.”
Oh boy.
Quinn chuckled and approached him. “So long as you don’t plan to take a bite out of me.”
Orishok’s smile widened. It was warm and good-humored, but didn’t say no.
Chapter Seven
SEVERAL DAYS PASSED, quicker than Quinn had thought possible. She spent much of the time talking to Orishok; it was easier to communicate every day, and she was shocked and excited by how fast he was learning English. His speed was only outpaced by the translator embedded in her head. As it learned his language, it taught her, and she shifted between English and his tongue without conscious thought. Soon, they only rarely used words the other didn’t know, and were often able to explain meanings when such unknowns arose.
After seeing what he’d done to the bedroom, Quinn wanted to explore their dwelling. Wanted to make a home out of the whole thing.
The rooms on the lower floor were windowless, and the windows had been covered through most of the second floor, so few items had been damaged by the
sun. Orishok seemed content to follow Quinn around, performing any task that required heavy lifting.
She found another couch, similar to the ones in the bedroom, in a nearby building. Heavy as it seemed, Orishok lifted it easily and carried it home. Quinn had him place it near the window. For additional decoration, she gathered small objects from the nearby buildings — knickknacks with no apparent purpose that were pleasing to the eye — and arranged them inside the room.
To her delight — and frustration — she accidentally discovered a lavatory in the hallway just outside the bedroom after tripping in the dark and hitting a wall. A hidden door opened to reveal a small chamber with a stone structure. She first mistook it for a sink, but, after remembering that Kelsharn was so tall, she realized its true nature.
Orishok was confused when she asked why he hadn’t shown her the lavatory when she first explained her necessities. He said he hadn’t known it was there, and he’d never used such a thing before.
Aware of her poor vision in the dark, he also procured some more stones and placed them through the home; most of these seemed to give off light without heat. She watched, fascinated, as he carved a few small alcoves in the hallway with his bare hands and set the stones inside. His strength had never been in question, but seeing him shape and smooth solid stone like she used to shape clay awoke an ache deep in her belly.
She only knew of one thing to do about it.
They returned to the bathhouse several more times as the days came and went, and Orishok remained outside during each trip. He told her he was keeping watch, though she couldn’t imagine what he was watching for. On her third visit, Quinn explored the place, wandering into the smaller chambers and hallways. She discovered a hidden compartment — wondering to herself why Kelsharn’s people were obsessed with hiding everything — in one of the side chambers. It contained numerous bottles of varied shape, size, and color. She opened a few, sniffing their contents, and was delighted to realize they were full of soaps and oils.
She selected her favorites and carried them to the main pool, setting them on the edge as she bathed. While she washed herself, she thought of Orishok, thought of the day she’d first seen his true form. Her body heated at the memory of water dripping down him, following the contours of his muscles, at the memory of the intense glow in his eyes. She imagined it was his large, strong hands moving over her skin, recalling what it’d felt like when he held her.
Afterward, as she dried herself and rubbed oil into her skin, she couldn’t resist. She dipped her hand low, pretending it was his, and touched herself until she came. It was the first time she’d done so in years. As good as it felt, she was left...wanting.
Unsatisfied.
Worse, it only made her craving for his touch stronger. She found herself watching Orishok as often as he watched her, studying him when he wasn’t looking; her attraction to him increased with each passing day.
Orishok made no move toward her. He was kind and thoughtful both in action and word, but he gave no outward sign that he was physically attracted to her. They were friends. Maybe he didn’t find her appealing in that way. He’d told her she possessed the same parts, but didn’t look like the females of his race. He’d called her beautiful, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have sex with her.
As he showed her around Bahmet, he told her the names of each of his people, and Quinn was amazed that he remembered everyone. He cared for his people. It was what had kept him going, kept him from also succumbing to the same fate.
He took her to a place that reminded her at once of a prison and a zoo; it was easily one of her least favorite spots in the city. The cages and pens were all open, now, but she could imagine the invisible barriers that would have been in place while it was functioning. The larger ones appeared to have been built with alien landscapes in mind, but there were many that looked painfully similar to the cells she’d spent the last few years in.
She didn’t know much about Kelsharn and his kind, but evidence of their cruelty and narcissism were all around. When she tried to imagine humans behaving differently, she only felt disappointed — her own race wasn’t much better in many cases. After only a few minutes, her unease was too great. She asked Orishok if they could leave. He escorted her out without question.
When the riverfruit was gone, Orishok took her into the forest to replenish her stock, and pointed out a few other edible plants along the way. He kept as close to his old path as possible to avoid killing more plants. She gathered berries and some root-like plants at his direction. Eventually, they came across a pretty, mushroom-like plant. Orishok was pleased with the discovery. He told her it had been a favorite with his tribe. She washed them in the stream, and ate them on the way back to Bahmet.
And they’d been the cause of her current situation.
Quinn gripped the sides of the bucket as she vomited for a fourth time. Her stomach cramped painfully, and her throat burned. She was damp with sweat and her limbs were weak and shaky. In the few hours since they’d returned from foraging, Quinn had gone from feeling pretty good to convinced, without a doubt, that she would die at any moment.
Orishok paced restlessly nearby, his footfalls heavy on the floor. The devastated look on his face hit her right in the heart despite how much attention her own problems demanded. He hadn’t come out and said it, but she knew what he was thinking — whether it was the mushrooms or his touch finally taking effect, he’d killed her.
She spat into the bucket and held herself over it until it seemed her convulsions were done. Orishok hurried away. Quinn heard the fountain’s steady sound change as he filled one of the cups. When he came to her, he crouched and held the water out.
“Thanks,” she said, accepting it with trembling hands. She used the first mouthful to rinse her mouth out, then took a few careful sips.
He didn’t say anything. He just watched her with that grave, helpless expression.
She met his gaze. “I’m fine. Just an upset stomach, probably a little food poisoning.”
“You are not fine,” he said. “You are—”
Quinn pointed a finger at him. “Don’t even say it.”
“Say what?”
“Whatever it is you were going to say. Don’t say it.”
“If you do not know what I was going to say, why would you tell me not to say it?”
“I know what you were going to say. Ugh, why are we arguing about this? Just don’t say it.”
He closed his mouth and stared at her, eyes like twin orbs of green fire. Quinn dropped onto her ass, settled her back against the side of the bed, and propped her arms on her raised knees. Her head throbbed and her stomach felt like she’d been someone’s punching bag for the last few hours.
“What can I do to help you, Quinn?”
“Talk to me,” she said, closing her eyes and taking another sip.
“What do you want me to talk about?”
“Anything. I just want to hear you talk.” While his voice might have been the stuff of nightmares to many people, it was familiar to Quinn. “Tell me about your people.”
Orishok was quiet, but she felt his nearness, felt the strange, thrilling energy he radiated. She remained as still as she could, fearful that the slightest movement would trigger another wave of cramps.
“My people lived in these lands from a time beyond knowing,” he said finally, “since the time when the sun, the moons, and Sonhadra were young. In those beyond-days, there came a great darkness, when the moons were driven in front of the sun. In that darkness, the monsters were emboldened, and hunted our people freely. Their calls echoed through the air, and the tribes knew only fear.
“The elders went to the rokahn, the one who speaks to Sonhadra, to discover what was wrong. He drew upon his ky’ohk to speak with Sonhadra, and was in his tent for a long while. When he came out, he told the elders that a mighty unterrahl’adi had woken, and, seeing the moons in its land, flew into a fury and charged them. Fearful of the beast, the moons fled to the
sun, whose light they hoped would in turn scare away the beast.
“But the unterrahl’adi — he was called Golaalchok, and was the mightiest of his kind — was only angered further by the sun. Unable to reach them, he dug great ruts in the ground with his long teeth, carving the valleys between these mountains. The moons could not leave for fear that he would catch them, and the sun would not leave them behind.
“What is an unterrahl’adi?” Quinn asked, opening her eyes.
“Unterrahl is...a small piece of stone.”
“A rock.”
“As you say, Quinn.”
Quinn smiled. She found it endearing every time he said that, though he likely thought nothing of it.
“And adi is like this,” he said, reaching forward and taking a lock of her hair between his fingers. “On these beasts, it is not so soft as yours.”
“My hair?”
“Perhaps more like these.” Gently, he touched a fingertip to her eyebrow.
Quinn’s brows furrowed. “Fur?” She chuckled, but stopped herself as soon as it began, a hand pressing against her stomach. “You thought my hair was fur this whole time?”
“What is the difference?” He frowned at her discomfort.
“Huh. I guess not much of one, especially for someone who doesn’t have either.” She waved her hand for him to continue.
“A rockfur is what chased us out of the trees on your second day. You did not see it, but you heard it. They are taller than me at the shoulder, covered in fur, and they are very powerful. They walk on four legs, and have big teeth and bones,” he tapped the bone nubs at his brow, “that can break down trees when they are mad.”
“I’m glad we didn’t see it.”
“Golaalchuk was the biggest of the rockfurs. Their chief. And with the moons and sun afraid, he claimed Sonhadra as his own. My people knew they would not survive the endless night, and so the elders gathered the greatest of their hunters together. They would have to bring death to Golaalchuk to save Sonhadra from the night and its monsters.
Undying (Valos of Sonhadra Book 7) Page 9
