Page 13 of Who Did This To You?

"But I couldn't climb down on my own," I said.

"Orvanis doesn't mean you conquer the edge, just that you seek it," he murmured, his hand still warm on my belly, grounding me. "No one is alone. All are Oame, and it is Oame who conquers the edge that Orvanis discovers."

He had used a different word that didn't translate when we were climbing down together, and that had floated in my mind.

"What does Lithoame mean?" I asked.

"Lithoame is the niche of being a foundational anchor, a structure for Oame to grow," he said. "It is being two that are one. We become Lithoame through accepting our scent matching."

The heat of his pheromones swirled around me, and I wanted nothing more than to scream out that I accepted him, that I wanted him, that it was time for him to become one with me.

"If I… if we… become Lithoame," I started my question, opening my eyes as I tilted my head back to look up at him. "What do we become when you go home to your people?"

"We would decide where we would stay or where we would go," he said. "If Earth tightens her grasp upon you, then my niche-finding would begin again, here with you. If Oame sings to your being, then that is where we would go. If Exlith-Orvanis is the niche that fits us both, then we will need to get a larger starship."

"Really?" I said, turning in his arms to put my hands on his chest to gaze up at him. "You would abandon your career to be with me?"

"That word doesn't translate," he said. "Is a career a niche?"

"I mean, you would give up your niche, your home world, for some woman who smells nice?" I asked.

"I give up nothing," he said. "I gain everything. I become a pillar, a bone in the hand of Oame, reaching out to clasp the hand of Earth."

I reached up, stroking the edges of his beautiful, aqua-and-purple, multi-colored, spiky strands of hair that adorned his head. I lifted up on my toes, and his arm curled around my lower back, lifting me further even as he leaned down, his lips finding mine, the kiss curling its way through my very being as everything melted away but the feeling of his lips brushing mine, following the movements of my lips the way I had followed the movements of his body down the ladder.

"What is that stink?" someone shrieked. "Did someone die in here?"

I jolted backward out of the kiss to see a woman, hair pulled up into two messy buns, near one of the doors leading to the separate treadmill rooms.

"No, it's pheromones!" I called out.

"Those pheromones smell like someone took a fat shit in a corpse!" the woman said, gagging as she covered her mouth. "Jesusfuckingchristmas!"

"Sorry, we'll get out of here, and the air filtration will clear it out in a second," I said. I looked back up at Zandaor. "Want to see my room? It's closer."

I needed him to see it, to understand who I was, to understand what he was getting into. If he was going to back out of this, I needed him to do it now.

"Yes," he said. "Lead, and I will follow."

SEVEN

ZANDAOR EXLITH-ORVANIS-ORKITH

My Lithoame's bedroom was covered in depictions of small, furry mammals that had similar features to Norratar. There were pictures of them on the walls, several stuffed caricatures of them, and her bedspread had a single, large image of one.

"In case it isn't clear, I like cats," she said as I looked around the room. "They are small domesticated mammals that are pets on Earth."

"Is there one in here?" I asked, looking for signs of such a creature.

"No," she said. "My ex-boyfriend kidnapped Mr. Snookums when we broke up. I couldn't bring myself to get a new kitten, not if there was any chance I would get Mr. Snookums back. He hates other cats, and I couldn't do that to him."

"You are committed to your relationships," I said, pointing out the obvious conclusion as I continued to stand there in the middle of the room and wait. I didn't know what I was waiting for, but whatever it was, it was important to my mate. The closer we got to her bedroom, the more she pulled away from me, becoming tense. I knew my scent was affecting her, especially as it filled the space, but she didn't relax into it.

As desperately as I wanted to tear that top cover off the bed and throw her down onto the soft surface and become a beast with two backs, as she so eloquently put it, there was something to wait for. Mating wasn't just the physical act of joining; it was the repeated connection of minds, seeking to understand and witness one another.

I was waiting for her to tell me what she needed.

"I do commit," she said, the tension spilling out through her voice, letting me know that the space I had created with my inaction had pulled free her thoughts. "I commit so hard I lose sight of reality. I will believe in a fantasy if you give me enough room to doubt my own instincts. I just need you to understand that because I don't want this if anything you've said to me has been a lie. If you didn't mean something, if you said any of it because you thought it was what I wanted to hear, I'm begging you, please. Please don't do this to me. Please don't tell me what I need to hear to do this to myself. I know it is crazy, I just met you, but I want you, I want this, so badly that it terrifies me. Please don't let me commit to you if you're just going to leave me."