I remember the book. The guide said that the female runs and the male gives chase. I read it curled on the loveseat with my thighs pressed together, and later, I pretended that it hadn’t affected me.
I’m running from a Scorpius male. Among his people, running is an invitation. He’s frozen in place because he wants to chase after me, but he’s fighting it.
What I’m doing is reckless, probably stupid. He’s a predator built for the desert, and I’m a soft-skinned human who couldn’t outrun the slowest thing in Otheera. I was raised to be careful, to lower my eyes, to hold my tongue, and never provoke a man. A sensible woman would stop right now.
I grin back at him and run faster.
Behind me, stone cracks under his boots. He’s running.
I hear him coming, and a cry breaks out of me, half terror and half joy. I look back again. He’s closing on me with long strides, faster than any human could move, his tail stretched out behind him for balance, his eyes fixed on me and nothing else.
I understand that I’m prey. I face forward and run harder. My lungs burn, but I can see the house ahead now, dark and solid. I realize how enormous it is. I don’t think I’m running from him; I think I’m leading him home.
I reach the porch. My feet land on the stone steps before he catches me.
His hands close around my waist, he turns me around, and my back meets the wall of the house. His body presses up against mine as he pins me to the scorching stone. He closes me in completely, forearms braced on either side of my head, his chest against my chest. I can feel the size of him, his weight, his strength that holds me trapped without any effort at all. He’s panting. I’m panting. Our breaths mix in the narrow space between us.
I like it. I like being caught, held, covered by someone so big and so strong. I never imagined it would make me feel so alive. In Concord, a man’s hands on me made me sick. Osric doesn’t touch me, and I want him to. Running from him was the most alive I’ve ever felt, but being caught feels better.
Over his shoulder, his stinger curves toward my face. I look straight at it and don’t flinch.
I laugh. It comes out of me breathless and wild, the laugh of a woman I was never allowed to be before.
Then I look into his eyes, and my laugh dies. Because he’s not playing like I am.
His eyes are full of terror and pain. His arms tremble on either side of my head, his jaw is clenched so hard the muscles stand out along it, and his breath comes through his teeth in short,harsh pulls. He holds himself over me by force, every part of him held rigid, a male keeping himself together with nothing but will.
“Osric.” I say his name softly. “What’s happening to you?”
He doesn’t answer. He squeezes his eyes shut.
“What are you keeping from me? Why are you like this?”
He hangs his head. His long hair swings forward and hides his face from me.
“I can’t tell you,” he whispers.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m ashamed. Because when you know, you’ll think I’m a monster.”
I lift my hand and cup his cheek.
“Youarea monster,” I tell him. “A Scorpius. But living with you, under your roof for these past few days, taught me monsters aren’t that bad. Maybe they’re better than humans. Maybe humans are the monsters.”
He looks at me, but I can see he doesn’t believe it.
“If I tell you,” he says, “you’ll want to leave.”
“I don’t think so. Try me.”
His forehead drops until it almost touches mine. His breath brushes over my mouth, and I feel how hard it is for him to hold back. It feels like he’s about to snap. I don’t know what that means, but I want him to.
“I’ve made my decision.” My thumb brushes over his cheekbone, and he doesn’t pull back. “I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know how this works, any of it. But I’m your bride, and I want to try. But you have to be honest with me, Osric.”
Chapter Sixteen
Osric
