Long before their society had advanced, Ryvokia had been hunters of their mates. Hunting females—in the metaphorical sense—still triggered the instincts that had gone dormant and been tamed, but never fully disappeared. And hunting a clever mate was always more satisfying.
Sonya, for all that had happened to her, was still in possession of her finest quality: her inquisitive mind.
“Howwill it heal my flesh wounds?” she said, when he didn’t immediately respond. He often forgot that humans were not connected to each other the way that Ryvokia were. They had a tendency to continue clarifying questions long after they had been understood, unless someone vocalized a response.
But he didn’t have time for human inefficiencies at the moment, and they didn’t have time to waste on her scientific queries.
“Get in,” he said, pointing to the water.
“Tell me how it works.”
“It is a long and complicated answer, and we do not have time.”
She folded her arms across her chest defiantly. “Tell me or I’m not getting i—”
He had crossed to her and lifted her in his arms in the final seconds of her demand, as soon as it became clear to him that she was planning on making a demand.
It was easy to encircle her in his arms and hold her still, captive, bend her to his will. She struggled momentarily, feeding the primordial pleasure centers of his brain. But she relented very quickly, going limp against him, her weight sinking into his chest, her head tipping back to rest against his.
He stepped into the pool and walked her to a deep section, then shifted her so that she was resting her cheek on his forearm, which he held aloft, and he was able to rotate her body slowly until her bottom was facing the ceiling.
He was grateful that she didn’t struggle against him. She surely could feel the nanobots that swarmed her skin and began their work of soothing her swollen flesh. He helped them along, guiding the water with his hand to the welts on her skin, tracing them with his fingers.
“You’re unhappy,” he said, because she appeared to remain so.
Her eyes moved to look up at him. The water was inducing its calming effect, but Sonya wasn’t as receptive to it as the others had been.
“I brought you here because it’s the only place where we can talk and be assured that the others will not…” he searched in vain for a word from her language to describe the semi-joined consciousness stream of the Ryvokia. “…be aware of what we discuss.”
This statement piqued her interest, and she rotated to better look at him, displaying her very delicate, but pretty body. He was certain she would ask a question then, pertaining to the way their minds functioned.
But the look in her eyes was not the same, and they were wet. The other humans also developed extra moisture in their eyes when they experienced pain or intense emotions.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, to rule out the first of these. “Am I hurting you now? You’re crying.”
She shook her head impatiently, and continued to look at him for a moment, her own intensity so great that he almost had to divert his own gaze.
Only warriors looked at each other like that in Ryvokia society.
And mates.
“Why are you crying?”
Her eyes grew wide, and he saw a variety of emotions play across her face. She was very suddenly angry and rolled back onto her stomach. “I’m notcrying,” she said bitterly.
Rychor was taken aback and drew water over her bottom, confused by her behavior. “I did not wish to make you angry,” he began. His hand was drawn to her bottom, to the shape of it—so like a Ryvokia female, only more delicate. He began to stroke it out of instinct, enjoying the reaction it stimulated in his human. The fierce possessive grip inside him tightened around his organs.
But she was suddenly furious again and floundered to push herself up and kick away from his legs. She didn’t seem afraid of the water at all, but was instead very comfortable in it. She turned onto her back, looked behind her, and then kicked away into deeper waters, her eyes on his. She then began to move her arms and legs in series of motions that kept her easily afloat.
“You swim,” he said, even more mystified by the humans, and attracted to Sonya.
She tipped her head. “Didn’t you absorb the whole language?” she asked, her tone still sharp. She pushed some water at him and splashed his face. “There’s a word for it in my language, after all. It shouldn’t surprise you that we can do it.”
“There are many words in your language for things you cannot do at all,” he retorted, finding himself pleased with the banter. In this way, Sonya was different from all the other females he had met, even from her own species.
She smiled and turned on her stomach. “I assume you didn’t bring me here to talk linguistics,” she said, swimming like a reptile, with ease and comfort. “So, dish.”
She looked over at him, as if to see how her colloquial expression would be interpreted.
