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)
"Grasp away, but just don't hurt yourself over it, okay?"
I keep pacing, because I simply don't know what else to do. A relationship hasn't been on my radar. The women on the beach outnumber the men, and I haven't had the slightest interest in any of the single men that are here. I'm still figuring out my place here in this new world, which is full of strangers and even stranger creatures. My jigsaw puzzle of memories hasn't given me a definitive answer of who I am. I'm having to learn the basics of how to function every day anew — how to make fire, how to sew, how to prepare the foods here. Nothing is easy.
Thinking about preparing food makes me think of Valmir and his escaping scorpions. I hate that warmth spreads through my chest at the thought. Ugh. It's artificial affection for a stranger I don't even like. I pound my fist over my chest as if I can somehow make my khui realize that.
We don't even like Valmir! I tell it.
CHAPTER 3
VALMIR
Rules.
Rules make everything so much easier to understand. Some of the clones woke up with their minds full of information. Regulations. Rules. Ask Chalath what the most effective leg move is in a gladiator battle between a moden and a praxiian and he'll immediately have the answer. His head is full of battle history and game variations and regulations. Skarr has all kinds of knowledge, too, and memories from his prior self. Kyth has indicated that he remembers a great deal as well. They have combat rules and weapon knowledge and champion rosters in their brains.
Some of us got nothing at all.
I have my name, and that's about it. I don't have a full set of rules in my brain. I don't have knowledge of the culture I come from, other than a few wisps of memory. I have almost nothing.
So when someone tells me a rule, I file it away carefully in my empty memories. I want to remember so I don't make the same mistake again.
I touched April without permission when I grabbed her hand, and she let me know that was against the rules. I appreciate this because it gives me a baseline. No touching without permission. I will remember this. Not even a hand-touch is permissible.
"How do you fare this day, warrior?" growls a strange voice at me.
I turn away from the fire I've been staring into and frown at the human female with the vivid mane. Not her again. Her name is Daisy and every time she sees me, she tries to talk praxiian to me. I haven't told her that I did not get the language of my people. That the only language in my head is the galactic common we all speak, and the only way I can understand her snarls and growls is because of the implanted translator chip.
So I just glare at her. "How do I look like I'm faring?"
Daisy recoils from my nasty tone. "Not…well?"
"Correct. So go growl at someone else."
Her expression is crushed. "I just wanted to practice my praxiian so I don't get rusty."
"Go practice on Chalath." But I'm already mentally noting the growls she used, the huff of breath that punctuated each word. I might need that information later, and I have no rules for the praxiian language in my regrettably empty memories.
Another male appears, his long braid flying as he moves to stand directly in front of me, his lightly furred barrel chest heaving with anger. "Are you bothering my mate?"
"More like she's bothering me with all her talking." I toss a pebble into the fire and get to my feet. I'm not interested in feasting with these people. Food has never been a huge draw for me. It's fuel to survive on, and I refuse to let it become leverage that they can hold over my head. I'd much rather go down near the beach and see if I can pick up a whiff of April's scent.
Not that I want to do anything with it. I just need to breathe it in.
For reasons.
"O'jek, it's all right, love," Daisy says, her tone cheerful. "It's not a big deal."
Her answer does not satisfy O'jek. He follows me as I stalk away, his jaw clenched so hard he's going to break a few teeth. I ignore him, because I know that's the surest way to get under his skin. As I saunter past, I see the others are glaring at me, too. I make a mental note of this — if rude to another male's female, expect anger. This is good to know.
I move away from the gathering, the need for fresh air overwhelming me. Before I can escape entirely, Devi appears. She's got a steaming bowl in her gloved hands but stops once she sees me. "Oh, there you are! How are the scorpions coming?"