“Death,” she said.
“You are not dead.”
“I’m not? Are you sure?”
“Very.”
She blinked again. The bright light took shape into a sky, and she began to rise up, though everything ached as she did.
And no, she was not dead. It hurt too much for her to be dead. Her body ached from the crash—the crash she’d thought she’d died in.
Yet here she was.
Somewhere.
Where it was, though, had a peaceful feel to it. She could hear moving water. Fresh air. Not processed air.
This was not the inside of a ship, for certain.
"What happened?"
"We crashed, Ambassador. I apologize for putting you at risk."
Freya stroked the sandy ground.
What in the stars?
"Are we on a beach?" The sand told the story. She was on a beach, not terribly wide, but enough that she was away from the water and in the sand. Grass and rocks created a line not far behind her. Water lapped at the shore, soft and monotonous.
The sand felt like mush against her fingers. Both gritty yet soft.
And staring at her were the most frightening white eyes she'd ever seen. White eyes set in blue skin, almost precisely the color of the sky.
Or the water.
He was the color of the blue water.
His chest heaved in and out as he raised off the beach. Most of him was blue. Carved blue, shaped like an incredibly well-toned humanoid. Abs and chest and lines that would be considered desirable.
If he wasn't the sworn enemy of the Terran Empire.
His nudity was broken at his middle by a brief silver garment. It had to be some kind of underwear. No humanoid in his right mind would wear clothing that outlined exactly how significant his assets were unless he was looking for a mate.
The only other thing he wore were two bracelet-like arm bands. They were small, compared to what she'd seen in the material she'd read before the mission.
Yet, while he was different from her, he was very much Rhimodian. Silver veins ran through him, outlining the metallic pieces under his skin.
The white eyes were a clue as well. Rhimodians didn't have irises or color in their eyes like all other humanoids. It was hard to know what a Rhimodian was looking at. If he looked at her or at the distance. They were almost disturbing. The lack of focus they seemed to have.
As he stood, his legs and feet--bare feet, in fact--started to shift, matching the taupe color of the sand.
His skin could adapt?
No wonder the Terrans had a hard time tracking them in battle.
"Can you stand?" he asked.
"I--"
