Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
There's no way Valmir isn't going to show up and demand his date with me.
Dawn heads off early to go gathering with some of the others. It's a nice day and I don't want to sit in the dark inside, so I pull the front door flap open, hooking it off to the side to let fresh air in. Makana pays no attention to the doorway, more than happy to nibble on the seeds I've given him. I glance out at the gray skies. Something tells me that Valmir will be by the moment Dawn disappears, and I'm not wrong. No sooner does Dawn clear out than Valmir shows up, a massive pink fish hooked through the gill on one finger. He pauses by the doorway and sniffs it with satisfaction. His pleased gaze slides to me. "Does your friend know that I've marked your door?"
She would be horrified. "No, and I'm not telling her. Neither are you, pussycat."
"Pussycat?"
"You look like a cat. They were pets back home. Kinda like Makana." I pick up the two-fang and he goes into my arms like he's always been my pet, settling in against my chest. My heart melts at how sweet he is.
Valmir's gaze goes from the animal in my arms and then back to my face. "You named it?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Are you keeping it, then?"
"I don't know," I say defensively. "Does it matter?"
"No. I suppose it could be worse. You could have called it 'pussycat.'"
"I wouldn't," I say, changing my tone to one of sweetness. "That's your name."
He gives me stink eye and gestures at the fish he's holding. "I brought our meal. Can I come in?"
I indicate he can join me, not getting up from my spot on the floor. Makana wiggles and I set him down in my lap, and he curls up there in the crook of my crossed legs, like a kitten. "Thank you for fishing."
Valmir holds up his catch, and a pair of beady eyes and gaping fish mouth leer back at me. "I figured if I brought in another land creature you'd adopt it."
Already, I'm tired of this guy. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a dick?"
"No, but if you're saying I'm not likable, I have been told that. Repeatedly. Which suits me fine. I am not aiming for likable." He sits across from me by the firepit and glances around. "Is your friend coming back?"
"No, Dawn's busy today." Normally I adore hanging out with her, but I knew Valmir would be coming by. Things are charged between us and I'm glad we're alone instead of having a third wheel in the hut. My khui is humming, but it always feels intense around Valmir. I'm told it'll get worse the longer I fight off resonance, but who can say? It's overwhelming no matter how I consider it.
The cat-alien grunts, as if he's pleased at hearing that Dawn isn't around. He sits down with the fish and pulls a bundled work-skin from our supplies as if he owns the place, spreading it out. I'm just about to protest that he's not about to clean the fish inside the hut, because in my experience, they're messy, disgusting creatures that get scales everywhere. But he gets to work, cutting off the head and collar in one deft move, guts it, and begins to scale it with practiced ease. Part of me expects scales to rain everywhere, but his motions are neat and tidy.
I could learn a few things from him. That's...annoying to realize.
As he works, I pet Makana and watch the strange alien I'm supposed to be bonded to. His catlike features threw me off when we first met, and his pelt of hair — fur? — was a turn-off. Yet the more I look at him, the more his features don't seem odd to me. They're just different, and I can't imagine he finds my appearance a dream. The fur doesn't seem strange any longer, either. Rather, it seems far more convenient than naked human skin. It looks soft, too. Petting Makana is nice, and I wonder if Valmir would like to be pet.
Not that I'd ever say such a thing aloud.
"Makana is still favoring his leg," I comment as he cuts big, meaty slabs from the side of the fish he's filleting. "You think I should wrap it?"
"Give him time," Valmir says. "It's not broken, so all you can do is let him heal at his own pace."
"I suppose. He's just so small and delicate." I scritch the tiny head, and the creature closes his eyes in bliss.
Valmir holds one fish fillet up into the air. "You can cook this one for me."
I can cook? Misogynist much? "I think there's been some mistake. I never said I'd cook. I said we'd have dinner together. My presence is the reward."