Starkissed (10 page)

“If it’s bothering you too much, maybe we should wait a few days. I have a feeling a few days won’t make any difference.”

“No,
saàloh.
It doesss not hurt—much. The ssswelling hasss gone down, but the bandage hasss come loossse. We need to keep moving to find water and ssshelter.”

She watched as he rolled up his trouser leg, easing it over the bandaged knee. His fingers fumbled with the length of elasticized cloth. He tried to tighten it without first completely unwrapping it. Leith shook her head. For someone so efficient, so competent, he could be impossibly clumsy at times. Then a picture came to mind—his taloned fingers deftly untying the intricate knot on the bag of Zi jewels. She would be just as clumsy trying that.

Afraid she might fall if she tried to stand, she crawled to him. “Let me do that.”

“You need to ressst. I can manage,
saàloh.
”

“I’m sure you can. But I—I want to.”

His amber eyes glittered in the sunlight. Then he nodded and withdrew his hands. He leaned back against the warm rock, but his eyes remained on her hands as she finished unwrapping the bandage.

His knee appeared less puffy than the day before, but she really had no idea what an uninjured Zi knee looked like. She thought of asking him if she could uncover his other knee so she could compare the two. Why stop there? She might as well ask him to completely undress so she could compare him to the human male physique. The Commander would be shocked, of course, especially if his culture was at a point where the nude body was taboo.

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56

Lanette

Curington

On Earth, nudity was natural in many environs, such as swimming pools and the beach, and the norm in vids and advertising. The male body was not unknown to her.

Cleanliness, weather, and abrasive surfaces necessitated clothes, but many fashions revealed more than concealed. Leith had worn her share on numerous occasions, but she had no desire to bare certain parts of her anatomy while merely shopping or attending class or visiting another world such as Arreis.

“It isss an odd thing.”

“
What?
” she asked since his remark seemed to coincide with her thoughts.

“Thisss bandage.”

“Oh. Don’t you have bandages on Zi?”

“Yesss, but not like thisss. Our medical technology lagsss far behind our martial technology sssince the Cruciansss began their warsss with usss.”

She let all of her fingers and the palms of her hands slide over the soft scaling of his skin. His leg jerked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did not,
saàloh
,” he replied. His voice was huskier than usual, like dry leaves rustling in the wind.

She began to wrap the bandage firmly. “The Crucians claim you started the war.”

“Do they? Yesss, they would.”

“Your government ought to reconsider joining the Galactic Alliance.”

“Sss’t, we have no time for politicsss! Every day isss a challenge to our very sssurvival. Each day we sssurvive isss a day of victory.”

“If what you say is true, then your side needs to be told. The Crucians—”

“
If?
If what
I
sssay isss true? What reassson would I have to ssspeak falsssely now,
saàloh
?” He spat out a string of Zi as he brushed her hands aside and rolled down his trouser leg. “We are ssstranded on thisss planet, void of sssentient life sssave our own, with no hope of ressscue. Why ssshould I lie to you? Why ssshould I ever lie to you?”

“You shouldn’t— You wouldn’t— It’s just a figure of speech.” Flustered by his reaction, she didn’t know how to make amends. “I’m sorry, Commander. I didn’t mean—

”

He lurched to his feet, and she rolled out of his way so he would have room to maneuver. He towered over her, his slitted amber eyes boring into hers, delving into what lay beyond, seeking something in her that she was afraid he wouldn’t find.

“I command no one. I am
J’Qhir Zha’an Gha’naàmeht`h Rhilh meh Bh’rin’gha
T`hagh’qohp’nij vuh Dhiìf’qhaàl.
”

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Starkissed

57

She was tempted to make a flippant remark questioning how he could remember it all, but the slits in his eyes had narrowed to almost nothing. His flat nostrils flared, and his mouth was set in a hard line. She had the uneasy feeling—and it was so uneasy she wanted to squirm beneath his relentless stare—they had crossed a boundary, moved past some point they could never return to. They had entered another realm of the Zi zone of their relationship, and she had no earthly idea what it was. If she had to ask, she would disappoint him. Asking what he meant would wound him beyond repair. She could do neither to him at this moment when he looked so solemn and, yes, lost.

“My name is Catherine Leith McClure,” she said. It seemed lacking in depth and history compared to his, and she added, “I was given my mother’s maiden name and my father’s surname and I am called Leith.”

“Leith,” he repeated softly.

He held out his hand to her, bracing himself with the crutch. She remembered how the Paxian had grasped his arm, not his hand, as a gesture of friendship and trust. She raised her hand high enough to grip his arm, but he moved his hand into hers instead.

At some point, he had removed his gloves.

His cool fingers lay matched to hers briefly, then entwined with them even more briefly before slipping around her thumb and grasping the heel of her hand. Her smooth, pale skin against his tawny-umber texture constituted a study in contrast.

She didn’t have to pull herself to her feet. He brought her up without a change in expression or a sound. Among humans, she wasn’t considered a small woman. At 180

centimeters, she was tall, inheriting the McClure statuesque frame. She was impressed with the way he hadn’t shifted a millimeter, had lifted her with one hand as easily as he would lift a rag doll. She’d never met a human male who could do that.

“Thank you,” Leith said and smiled at him. She wondered if he would ever smile back. Maybe the Zi never smiled, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t. Finding a way to make him smile might easily turn into a life-long project. What else did she have to do for the next five or six decades? If they survived that long.

Their hands held for a moment longer than necessary, then he let go and looked up at the sky. “We ssshould move on,” he said, and he sounded like rustling dry leaves again.

“We have lossst enough daylight already.”

“Are you sure you—” Leith began, but his eyes cut to her sharply. She bit off the rest of what she intended to say. Instead of asking if he was sure he shouldn’t rest longer, she began again. “Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?”

“I am sssure of nothing except that if we do not find water and ssshelter we will die.”

He jerked on his gloves. “If Hancock had left usss on a desssert world, I could find water www.samhainpublishing.com

58

Lanette

Curington

by the lay of the land or the texture of the sssand. But here…everything isss covered by treesss, grasss, and green plantsss. Here—sss’t!”

Viciously, he stabbed his crutch into the ground and started up the slope in the direction they’d been heading all morning. After pulling on the flightpack, Leith followed behind, trying to make sense of what had happened between them.

”””

J’Qhir glanced back once to make sure she followed, then turned his eyes to the ground. He had to watch where he placed the staff or he would stumble and fall and disgrace himself further. His free hand bumped the hilt of the knife at his waist, a reminder of his debt.

He held out his hand and would not have been surprised to see tendrils of smoke curling from the tips of the glove. His fingers and palm stung from the contact with hers.

His knee burned, but not only from the injury. He could still feel the imprint of her hands, each spot where a finger connected with his skin a concentrated pinpoint of heat. Like an uncontrolled youngling, his leg had twitched as his
vha’seh
tightened in response to her accidental touch. She thought she had hurt him. He was relieved she did not know what she actually did to him.

Her actions had prompted him to give her his
naàjh—
his soul or spirit. No exact equivalent existed in her language. By the slight wrinkling of the delicate arches of hair on her brow and the puzzlement in her round eyes, she did not comprehend
why
he had given her his veiled name. She had not questioned him aloud so she understood the importance of the gift. It was enough for now.

They walked throughout the afternoon in silence. The shuffling of their feet, the tap of his staff, and the relentless crackle of cones being broken open the only sounds. She had filled her pockets and began filling his.

She kept several paces behind like a
saàloh
should… She would take offense, and he allowed himself a small smile since she was behind him and could not see. Then she had stepped closer and placed her closed fist into his jacket pocket.

By every grain of sand on Zi, he could feel her heat through the thick material. She filled that pocket, then started on another, lower one. Why in the name of the rock did war jackets have so many pockets? He stabbed the ground with his staff every time her hand entered one.

Late in the afternoon, they came across a little bush covered in bright yellow berries.

Her round eyes grew rounder as she shot past him and scooped up a handful. She had almost put them to her lips before she remembered to analyze them.

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Starkissed

59

“Well?” His mouth watered at the thought of something besides dry protein bars and nutmeats.

“We wouldn’t die,” she said as she threw the berries to the ground and stomped them, “but we’d be puking our guts out.”

J’Qhir sighed. “Not a pleasssant consssequence.”

“Looks like it’s nuts for supper,” she said with a false smile.

Wearily, he nodded.

Long before time to set up camp, as they passed an expansive thicket of thorn bushes, Leith halted in her tracks and tossed the flightpack to the ground.

“I’m too tired to take one more step!” She looked at him as if she dared him to argue, then settled in the shade of the largest tree.

He said nothing. His knee throbbed dully and needed rest also. He found a sunny spot, remembering to shift the knife to a more comfortable place before easing his cumbersome bulk to the ground.

The knife.

He would wait until they found or built a permanent shelter before performing the ritual
.
The actual ceremony lasted two exhausting Zi days and included fasting. He did not have the strength to follow these strictures now. Perhaps later, if he could do so without Leith discovering his intentions.

His eyes slipped over her still form, stretched out in the dying grass. Once again, he wished for the opportunity to lie atop her, merely for the pleasure of the experience. How would she react? Twice they had been pressed body-to-body, and he had seen no distaste in her round eyes. Would she be offended if he—

Sss’t. Speculation was fruitless. She was
qaành’al
, and he was too old to waste his time on such things.

He forced his attention to the knife. His fingers ran along the smooth, unornamented handle. On Zi, he would have use of his clan blade. The ancient hilt had been ornately carved from wood gathered on the mountain nearest the Bh’rin’gha by an ancestor several millennia ago. Here, on Paradise, this plain knife would be just as effective.

He would try to perform the entire ritual, but if Leith proved too curious, he would execute the last part, use the knife, and accept the result. Leith would know nothing about it until he was finished, and then it would be too late. Certainly, she would look at him in disgust, but he would have to accept her disfavor. He felt a deep need to pay for his incompetence.

The sun sank lower and shade moved over him. When the first of the chill winds began, Leith awoke and rubbed her eyes.

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60

Lanette

Curington

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”

“You needed the ressst.”

“But you’re getting cold.” She brought out the solar film and helped him secure it.

Once more she had to gather wood while he sat idle, mindful of his injuries. He had whiled away the time he could have helped, his thoughts consumed with a rite that held no meaning on this planet. Or in her eyes. Survival should be his main concern at all times, at all costs. Could he be any more useless?

Thus, he had failed again.

He struggled to his feet and gathered what material he could find to start a fire. He had watched Leith and knew what was needed—dry leaves and grass, twigs, and small branches. He gathered them in a pile as she had done. When she returned with an armload of deadfall, he looked at her expectantly.

“Isss thisss the correct way?”

She tilted her head to one side, unconsciously mimicking his kind’s way of displaying perplexity. He took no offense. He found the mannerism agreeable. It made her seem more familiar, more Zi… Is that what he wanted? Did he wish for her to be more like his own kind so that she would be more acceptable?

“You don’t know how to build a fire?” The arches of hair over her eyes furrowed as she sank to her knees and laid the wood beside the small pyre he had prepared.

“On Zi, flammable matter sssuch asss wood is ssscarce. When heat or light isss needed, we ussse the glowing ssstonesss.”

“Glowing stones?” Leith brought out the laserlight and set the leaves and twigs aflame.

“Yesss.” He picked up a piece of wood as big around as his fist and twice as long.

“The ssstonesss are plentiful on Zi and found buried deep within the mountainsss. They are made of a clear ssstone that trapped a natural chemical when it formed. When the ssstone isss ssshaken, a reaction between the liquid and ssstone generatesss heat and light.”