Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
It’s not Niri.
It’s…a woman. A stranger.
I must be hallucinating, because she’s gorgeous. Something out of a dream with arching, proud horns, long black hair, and a hauntingly lovely face. Her eyes glow a strange, bright blue, and she’s completely, utterly keffing naked except for the tiniest of loincloths.
That does it. I’ve lost it. I’ve finally snapped.
She beams at me, all white teeth and vibrant blue skin, her tail fluttering back and forth with interest. She looks at me with awe and wonder both on her face, and she’s…just breathtakingly beautiful. I’m stunned by how perfect she is, from the high, tight buds of her breasts to the long, muscular length of her legs. I don’t know how she’s not freezing out here, because she’s wearing absolutely nothing.
Of course, she’s imaginary, so I don’t suppose it matters.
She says something, her glowing eyes distracting me, and she picks up one of the discarded parts. She cocks her head at me like she’s just asked a question.
“Sweetheart, if you’re a dream of mine, you’d be less interested in the mechanical parts and more interested in mine,” I murmur. Even though I haven’t felt the need for female companionship in a long, long keffing time, the sight of this woman is making my cock stir uncomfortably. It has to be because she’s so naked and so…fit and lean. There’s not an ounce of fat on her body. Her perfect, perfect body.
The girl says something again and holds the gear out to me. Her long hair blows in the wind, and I see she has a few braids tangled in with the long, glossy locks. Her horns aren’t capped and she’s got no tattoos, no body art whatsoever. She looks wild and primitive, and…and I must be completely crazy, because she looks so keffing real and utterly sexy.
But this planet is deserted. Inhospitable. The air has traces of poison in it. “You’re not real, are you?”
Her brows pinch, and her mouth turns down. She gestures at the gear again, her gaze flicking over me with avid curiosity. I notice she keeps stopping at my horns and my facial tattoos. I have a feeling that if my bionic arm were uncovered, she’d stare at that, too. Normally it bugs me when people stare, but I don’t think there’s malice or glee in this imaginary woman, just curiosity. Curiosity and sheer, abandoned beauty.
I guess my spank material is taking a turn toward the odd. Huh. I take the gear from her hands, and as I do, our fingers brush.
And that’s when I realize three things.
She’s real, she’s incredibly warm, and she’s purring.
FARLI
I watch the cave land in the distance, fascinated. It settles down like a lumbering sa-kohtsk, blowing snow in every direction and making my hair whip wildly about my head as if there’s an incredibly strong storm. The skies are clear, though, so the wind must be coming from the cave. How curious. Something high-pitched whines and roars as it descends, loud enough to frighten Chahm-pee back over the ridge. I know he will return, so I do not chase after him. He knows he is safe with me.
I am not frightened, not yet. I want to see what these people are doing, and why they are landing their cave here. If I see they are the bad ones with the orange skin like the others mentioned, then I will run away and tell the chief. Until then, I admire the beauty and the strangeness of their flying cave. How can something so square and fat move through the skies like a bird? It does not seem possible.
It is on the ground, quiet, for a long time before one of the sides opens an eye. No, I decide a moment later. It is not an eye, but opening an entryway. A male steps out. At least, I think it’s a male. And what I see makes me suck in a breath.
His body is covered by some strange, thick gray leather, but he is tall, so tall. Taller than anyone in the tribe, even Raahosh. His head is exposed, and I can see he has blue skin, like mine, but paler. He also has a sweep of arching, proud horns that gleam in the sunlight. Strange. His mane is shorn close to his scalp, but it looks to be black, like mine.
This tall stranger is sa-khui. He is not the orange-skinned bad ones like Shorshie and the others mentioned. He is one of our people. I bet he is handsome, too. I cannot tell from here, but I like the way he moves.
A stranger.
A handsome stranger.
I am so excited at this that I climb over the hill and begin to approach. I want to say hello, to greet him, to ask him why his horns are shiny and where his mane went. To ask him why he is pulling the guts out of the cave and spreading them on the snow. Before I can take more than a step, the archway on the side of the cave opens again, and this time a female steps out. I frown to myself and duck back behind the rocks. Is this his mate?