Yahn: Paranormal Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Alien Mates Book 4)

by Ashley L. Hunt

  It seemed she was not so tongue-tied. After a beat of silence passed between us, she changed tack and approached a topic much more serious than appearances.

  “Who was the female A’li-uud you went to talk to at the reception?” she asked bluntly.

  My natural instinct was to turn her question away, to insist I was unwilling to discuss the matter, but, as I raised my eyes from the plate to her, I saw her looking back at me determinedly. Ola had been a family secret for a long time, not that the general Ka-lik’et population was unaware of her doings but rather our desire to keep her name from our lips.

  Now, I would resurrect her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Octavia

  Venan’s reaction to my question seemed to be inarguable reluctance, and, though I desperately wanted to know the answer, I also didn’t want to offend him. When he didn’t respond right away, I considered apologizing and telling him to never mind my curiosity. To my relief, he spoke before I had a chance to.

  “She is my sister,” he said monotonously. “My younger sister.”

  I blinked, surprised. I hadn’t expected that. He had been so angry to see her that I’d only assumed she was an ex or an enemy of sorts, not a family member. Plus, after seeing her skulking around the reception tent during the ceremony, it didn’t seem likely she could’ve been a sibling or something equally as close in relation. Usually, sisters were invited to things like weddings. They didn’t have to lurk in the back.

  “You didn’t want her there?” I blurted, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  “No,” he told me. “More importantly, Zuran did not want her there, and it was his day to make such decisions.”

  “You don’t get along?” I knew I was being nosy, but I couldn’t help myself. For whatever reason, everything I’d witnessed about the A’li-uud since arriving on Albaterra had given me the impression that they were a united race. The species as a whole seemed to support each other, citizens of the kingdoms seemed to hold neighborly affection for one another, and families seemed so closely-knit they were practically impenetrable. It was hard to imagine things like feuds between two A’li-uud at all, let alone between kin.

  He almost smiled, the corners of his slanted eyes crinkling slightly, but it was a humorless smile. “No,” he said again. “She has been exiled from the family for many, many years.”

  The unannounced arrival of our food cut my interrogation short, saving him from what would have been probably another twenty questions. I was fascinated, not because I hadn’t met anyone who held ill will toward a sibling before but because this added an entirely unprecedented layer to my perception of the A’li-uud. Strangely, the imperfection humanized them, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing but definitely a relatable one. So often, I’d felt inferior to the blue aliens. They were physically more capable than anybody in the colony, they seemed to absorb and retain knowledge like computers, and they were all ethereally beautiful in their own right. To now know they endured some of the same pains and possessed some of the same flaws as my own imperfect race was, frankly, relieving.

  I still felt like a pauper Cinderella in a handsome prince’s castle, though.

  The meal placed in front of me looked divine but completely unfamiliar. I was able to identify the beige teardrop-shaped slab as an unknown meat, beneath which was a spread of citrus-scented greens. A pool of cream sprinkled with pumpkin-colored dustings surrounded the meat and veg, and a purplish garnish of something like cabbage topped the stack. The aroma swirling in the steam that rose from the dish was unlike anything I’d ever smelled before: sweet and savory and tangy and rich all at once. My mouth started watering immediately, but I didn’t reach for my utensils as I was unsure what the A’li-uud considered respectable dinner etiquette.

  “I hope you enjoy the meal,” Venan said gently once the warriors who’d served us disappeared from the room. He was looking at me with a hint of concern as if he wasn’t sure I ate A’li-uud fare.

  “It smells great,” I told him enthusiastically. I was glad to change the subject, as discussing his sister seemed like an unpleasant topic for him. Of course, I was still dying to know more, but I figured I’d exhausted my freedom to ask by now and probably shouldn’t press my luck any further. Besides, I wanted the dinner with him to be a good one. I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head for three days, and, now that he was in front of me, I wanted to make a good impression on him. Then again, I already had to some extent, or he wouldn’t have asked me to have a meal with him.

  He lifted his fork—which was actually less like a fork and more like a miniature version of those pronged sticks for marshmallow roasts—and I mimicked him. To my surprise, the moment the tines plunged into the protein, the grain of the meat separated into a neat little bite, no knife required. I raised my eyebrows, stunned. When I’d first arrived on Albaterra, I’d eaten the food brought from Earth on the journey for several weeks and slowly introduced A’li-uud cuisine into my diet at the advising of the colonists who’d already been here for a long time. Now, the only food available was A’li-uud food, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with their unusual meats and fruits and vegetables and even dairy-like products, but this was a completely different experience. Upon meeting my tongue, the forkful practically melted into a soft, blissful flavor so intense I had to close my eyes for a second.

  “Wow,” I breathed after swallowing.

  Venan looked at me, lifting a brow slightly. “Is it to your liking?” he questioned. The hand not holding his fork rose from the tabletop as if he were prepared to snap for a staff member to change my dish if I requested it.

  “God, yes,” I exclaimed. I sounded more like I’d just had a mind-blowing sexual experience than a delicious bite, but I couldn’t help it. Nothing I’d ever tasted before, not even the A’li-uud food I’d had since coming here was even slightly comparable. “It’s…wow. It’s amazing. Really. What is it?”

  “Fennyk,” he answered, the corners of his eyes again crinkling. This time, the almost-smile was one of delight at my satisfaction. “It is a creature native to Maquaria.”

  I’d heard about Maquaria a time or two, but I knew very little about it other than it being the only underwater kingdom on Albaterra. “So, it’s a fish?” I asked.

  “No, it is primarily a land creature,” he corrected. “Though, when it is not basking on the beaches, it can be found frolicking in the shallowest parts of the ocean. That is why the meat is so tender; a fennyk spends its life either soaking or sunning, living in pure luxury and comfort rather than constantly foraging for meals or trying to escape predators.”

  “I can’t believe I’ve never had this,” I went on with an awed shake of my head. The waves I’d styled my hair almost brushed my plate, but I flipped my locks over my shoulders quickly before they had a chance. “How do you eat anything but this all the time?”

  “The fennyk population is relatively small. As I said, they live solely to lie on land and swim in waters. Reproduction is infrequent. Because of this, it is illegal to capture more than ten fennyk per solar year, and those unlucky few who are caught are sold at exorbitant prices, as I am sure you can imagine.”

  I glimpsed the meal on my plate with newfound reverence. Not only was I essentially eating ambrosia, but I was also eating expensive ambrosia that, if I could take anything from Venan’s inflections, likely cost more than my entire salon and everything in it. I didn’t pay a thing for the salon, obviously, but as a point of reference, it was a breathtaking realization.

  “Well, it’s wonderful,” I told him genuinely.

  I was pleased the conversation had taken a much more pleasant turn. The awkward tension that had arisen when I’d broached the subject of his sister seemed to have vaporized, and I felt utterly comfortable in his presence now. He still seemed like royalty to me, especially in his luxurious silver robes, but I could easily feel the personality beneath the persona. His eyes were still brooding, his mouth still sharply silent, yet he wasn’t a li
ngering obsession anymore. He was a being with thoughts and feelings and desires and regrets, just like me. Now, it was a matter of figuring him out.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Venan

  I was greatly delighted to see how much Octavia was enjoying the fennyk, but I could not dismiss the nagging concern in the back of my mind that I was less than an enthralling host. If the most memorable part of her night was the meal itself, I might as well have sent her plate to her home in the colony where she could have eaten in the comfort of her own haven. As enchanted by her as I was, I wanted the most memorable part of her night to be me.

  Romance had never been a skill I developed, however, and I was uncertain how to go about thrilling her. Small talk was too superficial, but I was worried about appearing contrived by bombarding her with questions or heavy topics. I was floundering for any semblance of control over the impression I made on her, though, so I grasped at the first thought that wandered through my mind, and that was to learn more about her.

  “Your friend from the wedding is very energetic,” I remarked. “You seem rather more reserved than she. Are you as talkative behind closed doors?”

  “As talkative as Edie?” Octavia reiterated. A broad grin crossed her lips, and she shook her head. “No, definitely not. I don’t think anyone’s as loud and boisterous as Edie.”

  “So, it is not merely in my presence you are quiet?” I hoped I sounded casual, though I was burning with desire to know if I tamped any vim within her.

  She crooked her head then and peered at me with thoughtful consideration. “Of the two of us, I’m not so sure I’m the quiet one,” she commented, her grin slipping into a delicate smile that lifted the hairs on the back of my neck.

  “I am not much of a conversationalist,” I agreed. “I am only wondering if my being an Elder has any impact on your behavior around me.”

  Her thoughtfulness continued, her eyes drifting upward toward the ceiling as she processed the notion. I did not press her. Instead, I waited silently for her to answer and forked another bite to my mouth. Finally, she mused, “I’d like to say your authority doesn’t intimidate me, but I think that’d be a lie. You have a lot of power; you command a certain level of respect I’ve never been exposed to before. I think it’d be impossible not to be impacted by that.”

  “Perhaps you ought to inform the rest of Dhal’at about the respect I command,” I responded rather dryly. I did not intend to sound so bitter, but the public opinion weighed heavily on me and served as a constant nuisance to my ego.

  “What do you mean?”

  I threw a somewhat dismissive look toward the nearest window as if chastising all those on the other side of the palace walls and said, “I am far from a beloved Elder.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  Swinging my gaze from the window to her, I studied her innocent expression warily. “Surely, you know how I came to be Elder?”

  She nodded, and I saw sympathy in her hauntingly dark eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I can’t imagine what that was like for you, being accused and thrown in jail and everything when all you were trying to do was protect him.”

  “It was difficult,” I agreed. “Unfortunately, my being found not guilty was not the end of the difficulties. The Dhal’atian opinion of me, particularly since having been inaugurated into the Elderhood, has consistently erred on the negative. There are many days I am certain the only civilians to believe my innocence are my parents and my brother. And his new wife, of course, as she helped fight to have me absolved.”

  “But why?” she pressed, now leaning into the table and nearly dipping the fabric of her dress into the sauce on her plate. “Don’t they trust that the Council looked at the case from every angle and made the right decision?”

  I thinned my mouth into a slit and shook my head ruefully. “You are approaching the point with a logical perspective,” I said. “The A’li-uud against me are not thinking with reason; they are thinking with their emotions. Elder Kharid was one of the most adored Elders Dhal’at ever saw, perhaps even one of the most adored in all of Albaterran history. Nearly all who lived under his rule suffered a horrendous grief when he died, and they still grieve today. It matters not to them whether he died accidentally or intentionally. Because he died by my sword, they feel justified in reining me to the heft of their grief.”

  “That’s not right, though,” she protested stubbornly, as if I was the one she needed to convince.

  “I could not agree with you more,” I acknowledged in reply, “however, there is little I can do to rectify it other than proving myself against their biases.”

  Octavia leaned toward me, resting her elbow on the space beside her plate and propping her chin onto her palm. I paused with my utensil halfway to my mouth, suddenly enraptured by her proximity. She was too far away for me to steal a much-desired kiss, but she was close enough for me to see the swirls and patterns in her glistening irises. In some ways, that was even better a gift than a kiss.

  “Well, I don’t know how much this will matter, seeing as I’m a human and all, but I think you’re doing a great job,” she said in earnest. She spoke quietly, her words silken but honest, and I was unable to tear my gaze away from her despite feeling like I had suddenly stepped into a very hot, very bright beam of sunlight. “And I’m sure Ka-lik’et and the rest of Dhal’at will see that soon enough, too.”

  The weight I had battled for three months, bearing down upon my shoulders until I was forced to hunch and bearing down upon my psyche until I was forced to tuck away my feelings, slipped. It may have been a metaphorical weight, but I would have sworn right then and there before the entire Council that I felt several tons shifting at that moment. Offering me the first hint of relief I had felt since the day I realized the tip of my sword was buried deep into the sternum of the Elder to whom I had devoted my life. She may not have had the slightest concept of my newly-acquired obligations to my kingdom and its people, but I was impervious to my own cynicism as the words left her mouth and settled in my brain. Her approval, regardless of its weight to anyone else, meant more to me than I could have professed. I knew my parents supported me, as well as my brother and new sister-in-law, but I took their support for granted because they were family. To hear such praise from someone at a time when I felt I would soon crumble beneath the pressures and the hatred was like being lifted to the stars and told to pluck one. It was magical, beautiful, and the fact the praise came from her made it all the more meaningful.

  “Thank you,” I said with as much modesty and composure as I could manage. In truth, I would have loved to throw my chair back, seize her by the waist, and kiss her with every ounce of gratitude and passion I had inside me. Such behavior would surely frighten her away, though, so I allowed my verbal thanks to act as representative for my feelings and forced myself to take another bite of fennyk to distract myself from my urges.

  She slid back in her chair, lifting her elbow from the table and righting herself. I was very aware of the renewed distance between us, and it brought me a confusing blend of disappointment and relief. This Earthling was more alien to me than any creature I had ever encountered before with her bewitching ways. I was tempted to ask if she had magical capabilities she had thus far failed to disclose, because I could feel her grip on my soul, soft and gentle yet suffocating. A common belief amongst A’li-uud was the Grand Circle brought together those who would perpetuate the cycle in their unity through the power of compatible energies. I had never discounted the belief, but I had never given it a great amount of thought either. As I shared the same space with this mystic of a human, however, I finally understood the gravity of the myth and found myself converting to the status of an avid advocate.

  My body began moving of its own accord, leaning on the table and meeting the space she had just vacated. I had to kiss her. I needed to drink her in.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Octavia

  When he leaned toward me, my heart leaped into my throat and choked
the breath from my body. I knew that lean; it was the same lean I’d gotten at the end of dates outside my front door or next to my car or the one time I’d been dropped off at the airport by a guy I’d thought was just a friend. It was the lean of a kiss, and it sent a jolt of tightly-sewn shockwaves through me.

  There was a problem, though. I’d already sat back in my chair, and I was pretty sure this wasn’t the end of our dinner together as we both still had half our meals on our plates. The timing wasn’t right, and I didn’t know if that was my fault or his, but I would’ve felt completely ridiculous if I eased back toward him after pulling away literally just seconds before.

  To my surprise, however, he didn’t hang there waiting for me. He reached a blue hand forward and touched the ring I wore on my left index finger.

  “This is very interesting,” he said, studying the piece of jewelry. My skin heated where he inadvertently brushed it. “Why do you wear it?”

  Either he never intended to kiss me, or he was capable of very smooth segues, but either way, I felt a surge of disappointment. I was dying for a bit of romance, especially with him. Venan was so attractive, obviously, and I wasn’t going to deny that his power was appealing, but it was more than that. His quiet, thoughtful, brooding personality kept me intrigued like I’d never been before. In fact, with human men, I often found brooding annoying. It was like they took themselves too seriously and expected the world around them to wonder what was going in their minds, only so they could preach their brilliant gospel to the lesser-informed. With Venan, though, it was different. He was mysterious, clearly misunderstood and struggling not to maintain the misunderstanding but to find common ground between himself and his people. And I was thirsty to understand him.