Текст книги "Surviving Skarr"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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I don’t like him, either.

All of this adds up to a “no thank you” from me.

“Well?” he says, and he smiles again, as if he expects me to suddenly shower him with compliments.

“Well what?”

“You like what you see, yes?”

“No.”

His expression falls. “Bah. You do. You are just uneasy because I am the only ssethri splice upon this planet full of mesakkah.”

“Mesakkah?”

“The blue ones. Did you not hear Flor say that there are many of them here?” He shakes his head. “They are terrible gladiators. Some armor, but not much in the brains department. I can easily take them.” He pauses and then adds, “At least, the splice I come from can easily take them.”

Skarr looks momentarily troubled and I feel a flash of kinship, that we’re both struggling with this cloning thing. That we both don’t know who we are. “They seem nice.”

“Nice does not win battles.”

“No one said there are battles here.”

The look he gives me is condescending and pitying. “Of course they say that. Mark me now, though, there is always a fight to be won.”

I roll my eyes.

Skarr rubs his chest again, and his song grows stronger. He smiles at me, the expression crawling over his face slowly, as if it’s taking him a little time to realize that looking at me makes him happy.

“What?” I ask defensively.

“I am looking at you, just as you looked at me.” He continues to rub his chest in a way that makes me feel awkward, especially with heat pulsing between my thighs. “Is that not allowed?”

Giving a little shrug, I remain still so he can look all he wants, because he allowed me to gawk at him, right? As long as it’s just looking, it can’t hurt. A small part of me is curious what he thinks, too.

Skarr circles around me, rubbing his chest as if rewarding his khui. “Mmm.”

“What’s that mean? That ‘mmm’?”

“Just that I approve.” He reappears in front of me, the smirk on his face again. “Your appearance is a little quiet, but I imagine it is because you are stealthy and clever, yes? So I approve. My khui would only pick the best to mate with me. You do not mate a zelft to a thrombox, after all.”

I blink at him, utterly repulsed. If he asked to check my teeth next, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m not a person to him. I’m some sort of sexual accessory to make him look good to others. He doesn’t care about me, just appeasing his own ego.

It’s rather gross.

I turn and start walking away again.

“Wait, where are you going?” Skarr chases after me, his heavy leather cloak flapping. “Female, I said wait!”

“I just told you my name!”

I wait for him to say it. To be a normal person and apologize. Vivi, I’m sorry. It’s short. Simple. Easy.

Instead, he jogs next to me. “Remind me of it again?”

Ugh. This is the worst. The worst of the worst. I keep storming away, speeding my steps up. I don’t know where I’m going. Just…away.

He grabs me. Snags me by the arm and tries to stop me.

And I lose it. I halt abruptly, plant both hands on his chest, and shove. I might even let out a feral little scream of rage.

Skarr tumbles onto his back in the snow. Instead of looking furious, though, his eyes light up with enthusiasm, as if the thought of me fighting him excites him. “That is more like it, my mate.”

“Ugh! You are revolting!” I fling my hands into the air in disgust and stomp away again. “And I am not your mate!”

“And here you said there were no battles to be won,” he calls out after me.

Chapter Eight

VIVI

Since I don’t have anywhere else to go, I stomp my way back to camp.

I’m tempted to leave, though. To just keep on heading out and see how far I make it. I know the answer to that already, though: not far. I don’t know enough about this planet (or even myself) to make that a viable option. So I head back to the encampment where the other clones are waiting by the fire. What other choice do I have?

Skarr is standing with a cluster of the men—the other splices—and they all give me fascinated looks when I return. Except for Skarr. There’s a hint of annoyance on his face, as if he’s downright inconvenienced by the fact that I won’t jump his bones.

I resist the urge to snarl at him, but only because he’d probably like it.

Pretending nonchalance, I warm my hands by the fire. I can’t help but notice that all conversation died when I approached. No one’s talking, and it makes me feel more shy and vulnerable than ever. Like I’m a problem. Like I’m contagious with something all because my khui decided that the worst guy on the planet is my forever man.

It’s not as if I chose him. It’s not as if resonance is catching. I can’t even be mad at them for avoiding me, though. If there’s even slightly a chance that my resonance would affect theirs, I’d avoid me, too. No one wants to be stuck with one of these guys. I flex my fingers, waiting for someone to say something to me. Anything. I glance over and Colleen averts her gaze. Natalie chews her nails anxiously and watches me, saying nothing. Dawn and April whisper when they think I’m not looking. It’s not malicious. We just don’t know the rules of this new place and I’ve been tapped by the unluckiest hand there is.

Sabrina—the sweetest and most outgoing—fusses over Kyth, tucking a blanket around him and I notice his eyes are dull again, the light of his khui gone. Flor would talk to me, I think. Reassure me that all is well. But she’s not around. Maybe she’s catching a few moments with her mate, the guy she eats up with her eyes when she thinks no one’s watching.

If I were a braver soul, I’d sit in one of the vacant spots near the fire and start a conversation. Tell everyone how awkward I’m feeling. Heck, if I were braver, I’d approach the cluster of men near Skarr and give them my version of what it’s like to resonate. I suspect Skarr’s version is more enthusiastic than mine. I should probably be flattered instead of wanting to run away screaming.

Too bad I’m not a braver soul. Because I can’t take another minute of everyone staring at me. It’s too much of a reminder of when I was in high school, when I was the weird kid at the back of the class that wore all black and never spoke and…

Oh my god. I just had a high school memory.

It’s a tantalizing glimpse of who I was, and far more important than anything out here by the fire. I need to concentrate. Frantic, I turn and race away from the group, looking for a quiet spot. The tent we’ll be sleeping in looks empty and I head straight for it. Let them think I’m sulking over resonance. I need to get my head back—my me back—and they can think whatever they want.

I crawl into the tent, flopping onto my back in the tumbled sea of furs that we’ve all been sharing. Someone joked last night that the tent was like a big slumber party. It was probably Sabrina trying to cheer us all up, actually. But if it was a slumber party, that still makes me the weird kid at the back of the class. I press my hands to my brow, trying to force memories free from my foggy brain. I picture…boots. Not cowboy boots, but black leather boots. Boots with lots of shiny silver buckles and thick rubber tire-tread soles.

Another memory flashes through my mind. Of picking mud out of those huge treads with a stick and cursing the entire time.

“If you weren’t such a stubborn ass, you’d wear the proper footwear to go camping.” The words are harsh but there’s amusement threading through his voice.

“When you’re me, this is the proper footwear for camping, Dad.”

I remember him laughing. Dimpling. Oh my god, do I have dimples? Frantically, I smile to myself, feeling my cheeks to see if there’s an indent there. When I don’t find one, I want to cry. I play that same tiny tidbit of memory through my mind over and over again, hoping that my name will pop up. Hoping that his face will be more than just a blur and a memory of dimples. There’s sandy-brown hair and a red and black checkered flannel shirt, but I might be self-inserting those at this point. A quick tug on a long hank of my hair shows it’s sandy-brown, too.

So me and my dad went camping? Despite me being a goth-girl, I was into that sort of thing? Was it because Dad was? I’m hungry for more memories, and at the same time I’m hit with bitter loss, mourning a person I never met and wouldn’t want to meet me. I’m a clone of his real daughter, and I don’t know what happened to her.

I just know I’m not her, and these memories, however much I might want them, are as borrowed as the clothing I wear. A frustrated tear escapes my eye and slides down my cheek, and I angrily dash it away.

“Knock knock,” calls out a voice. Flor. The petite woman has been nothing but friendly since I first met her, doing her best to be the voice of knowledge for us. I’m not surprised that she’s come to seek me out. “Thought I’d check on you. Want some dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.” And then because that statement makes me sound like a petulant child, I add, “Truly. I don’t think I could eat.”

Flor sits down on the furs near the entrance of the tent, giving me space. She crosses her legs and makes herself comfortable. “Look. I get it. I know what you’re going through. Resonance can be difficult.”

That makes me sit up in surprise, because she and I’rec are clearly in love. They’re a strong, unified team together. For all that he’s all cranky and alpha male, when Flor barks an order, I’rec doesn’t argue. He just gets to work. It’s clear he respects and adores her, and she does the same for him. I can’t imagine them ever being at odds like myself and Skarr. I study her face. “You and I’rec…it was like this?”

She blinks in surprise and then bites her lip. “Well no, actually. We’ve been all over each other since we resonated. But we’ve been friends for years so we knew we liked each other’s personalities. My point was that I’ve seen a lot of resonances happen over the last while, and there have been several that weren’t happy campers. Everyone—even the ones that don’t dislike each other—seems to struggle with it at first.”

“Everyone except you two.”

She grins, her expression downright impish. “Everyone except us, yeah.”

That doesn’t help me much. “So how did the others turn out? The ones that didn’t like each other? Did they figure out how to turn it off?”

Her grin turns into a grimace. “Actually you can’t turn it off. But if it makes you feel better, everyone else fell in love with their partner and they’ve all been extremely happy.”

“All of them?” I’m suspicious.

She nods. “Every single one.”

“Was anyone’s personality like Skarr’s?” When she hesitates, that tells me everything I need to know. “So I’m just the lucky one, then. It figures that I’d end up with the guy that was spliced with a lizard and a…a…peacock!” The moment I blurt it out, I know it fits. Skarr is exactly like a peacock—all strutting and prancing and wanting everyone to look at him. He’s absolutely a peacock. I snort at my own imagination, picturing him with a fan of feathers for a tail instead of his gator-like one. “He’s a peacock,” I state again, proud of myself.

“I have to admit that he’s…a bit special.” Flor manages an awkward smile. “But look at it from his point of view. He’s just as lost as you are. The gladiators are brought up with very specific memories and all he knows is how to be a fighter. If he’s retreating into showing off and picking fights, it makes sense. It’s not fun to be around, but in his weird way it makes sense. He’s never been taught how to be friends with people, just how to fight them. We had a few gladiators with us when we first arrived here and they were absolutely clueless. No idea how to survive in a wilderness situation. All they knew was battles and glory.” She tilts her head, regarding me. “So be patient with him while he tries to develop a personality.”

Me. Be patient with him. Understand that he’s a jerk and…what? Be his mate anyhow?

I laugh, because it’s so ridiculous. No one’s telling him to stop being a jerk. I’m just supposed to overlook that he’s a perfect ass and just…what? Fall into his arms anyhow? My laughter continues, growing higher-pitched and slightly hysterical.

I’m trapped. Everywhere I look, every way I turn, I am absolutely fucking trapped.

I’m stuck on this planet.

I’m stuck with Skarr.

I don’t even know my own name.

“I’m supposed to wait for him to develop a personality,” I manage between gasping, frantic laughs. “And I don’t even know my own name? Is he going to wait for me to get a personality too?” I laugh harder. “Wait, I don’t think it matters. He doesn’t care if I have a personality as long as I jump his bones.”

My laughter is turning dangerously close to tears.

“I’m sorry, Vivian,” Flor’s tone is gentle. “I know it’s a lot. I wish I could help you with the memories thing. Maybe more will come to you as time passes, maybe not. But as far as personalities go, I like you.”

“What’s there to like? I’m a blank slate.”

She shakes her head. “You say that, but I see someone that’s strong in the face of all kinds of shit thrown at her. You aren’t flinging yourself off the nearest cliff. You aren’t weeping about the cruelty of life. You aren’t scared of your shadow. I’ve been watching all of you over the last few days and you’re one of the strongest here. Not physically—mentally. You’ve got your shit together even if you think you don’t. And you’ve tried to help out around camp. Have you seen anyone else helping with the fire?”

“It’s because that’s one of the few things I know.” She makes it sound like that’s a big deal.

“That’s right. And instead of dissembling or picking fights or crying or clinging to the nearest person and begging them to do it for you, you just got to work.” She reaches out and gives my closest limb—my lower leg—a squeeze of affection. “I’m not ragging on the others, mind you. I know just as much as anyone else that you’ve all been thrown into the deep end of the pool. They’ll figure it out. But it helps to have people like you here. I know I don’t have to babysit you.”

But I’m not being strong. I’m just…afraid to ask for help. Afraid to be a bother. And now I’m afraid to correct her assumptions.

She pats my leg again. “Just don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? Once you remember your name, we’ll all call you that. For now, is Vivian okay? Is a female pronoun okay? Or would you prefer something else?”

It’s nice that she asks. I appreciate that. “Maybe Vivi instead. That feels a bit more…me.” I pause and then add, “And female, yes. Definitely female.”

“Vivi, then. Got it.”

I watch Flor as she gets to her feet. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“I wish I could be more help. Talking is easy.” She shrugs, offering me a wry look. “I came in here to warn you about resonance, though. It’s totally your call on how much time you want to take with the whole Skarr situation, but I have to point out that the longer you resist, the more resonance is going to push the two of you together. It wants you to have a child together, and it’s going to make you want to jump him despite yourself. If you don’t feel like yourself for the next while—and instead you feel like a much hornier, sexed-up version of yourself—well, you know why.”

Part of me wants to point out that I don’t know what “myself” feels like anyhow, but it just feels like pouting at this point. “So I can’t do anything to avoid resonance? Nothing at all?”

“Not if you want children, ever.”

“And what if I don’t?” I’m still trying to figure my own head out. I don’t have the bandwidth for thinking about children right now.

Flor hesitates, and hope surges up inside me. “So there’s a gal back at camp named Veronica. She has a special khui that lets her heal people. I know it sounds hokey, but it’s true. If you want, she can turn your khui off…but it fucks you up bad.”

“More than being stuck with Skarr for the rest of my life?”

She makes a face. “I’m just saying that there is an answer, but it’s not a good one. Turning the khui off makes you numb to everything. It’s not a solution I’d recommend.”

I nod, but I can’t stop thinking about it, even after Flor gives me a sympathetic pat and leaves.

A healer can turn off my khui. Mute it, so to speak. It’s not a good answer, but it’s an answer. And it’s a hope. I curl my toes in my boots and lie on my back again, staring up at the ceiling.

Do I want children? I genuinely don’t know. It feels like a lower priority right now. Top priority? Figure myself out before I lose my mind.

What little I have, anyhow.

I try to call up the memories of camping with my dad again, but instead, new things float through my head. Things like Skarr spreading his arms as I look at him and giving me that smug expression, like he knows I’m going to find whatever he’s got pleasing.

It’s going to make you want to jump him despite yourself.

As if we’re somehow connected mentally, Skarr laughs outside. I can tell from the distance of the sound that he’s still by the fire, but I can pick out his voice, his tone. He’s louder than the others—because of course he is—but there’s something pleasing about the quality of it. There’s a richness when he speaks, even when he’s saying bullshit. My hand slides to the waist of my pants and then between my thighs. I’m wet and slippery, and I imagine him prowling into the tent, giving me that cocky expression and—

Oh my god, what am I doing?

I jerk my hand out of my pants, horrified, and squeeze my thighs tightly together.

I don’t even like him. I want him to jump off a cliff. I want him to wander out of camp and never come back. Why would I touch myself to the sound of his voice?

And why am I still itching to do it???

Chapter Nine

SKARR

My female is avoiding me.

It’s obvious to everyone, even the dim ones such as Kyth or the human Jason. After we feasted upon each other’s looks, she grew skittish and left me. Perhaps she found the sight of me overwhelming. I can understand that. No doubt someone as powerful as me is a lot for a human female to handle. That night she retreated to the tent and did not emerge.

The next morning, we broke down camp and hiked toward the beach village, and she made sure to stay very far away from me. I attempted to talk to her twice, but each time she ignored me, staring straight ahead despite the singing in her breast.

“Give her time,” I’rec tells me over and over again. “Let her adjust to the situation. It is all very new for her as well as you.”

In truth, I do not mind that she plays games with me. I enjoy the thrill of the chase. I enjoy the challenge of enticing my female to my side, to figuring out the way to impress her enough that she will fling herself into my arms. I just need the right sort of enticement. Until then, I shall study my prey.

And I like what I see so far.

Vivian is commendable. I did not notice her at first because she was not as brilliantly colored as some of the others. Her hair is a soft, gentle brown and her skin an unremarkable shade of pale beige. Her breasts do not bounce as openly as some of the others, nor is her backside as heavily rounded. She is slender but strong, and she is tall. She might not have the brilliant plumage of some of the others, but it is a clever disguise, I think, to allow her to be stealthy. To blend in amongst the others and hide in plain sight. I approve of this. I do not need jiggling mammaries to see her worth…

…though I admit I would not mind if hers jiggled. Just a little.

No, Vivian is not flashy. She is the silent, stealthy predator, and I have great respect for this. She speaks very little as we travel, preferring to remain quiet. I suspect she is taking in all that the others speak of so she can use it against them.

Information gathering—a wise strategy.

Vivian also gathers dung chips as the group walks, placing them into a pack. No one else does this, but when Flor—I’rec’s annoyingly chatty female—notices her doing this, she praises her openly for thinking ahead. The chips are fuel, and Vivian is making sure no one runs out.

Again, I approve of this strategy. She is quietly making herself invaluable to the others. No one will see it coming when she strikes. It’s a different strategy than what I use—making myself so fearfully impressive that they do not dare challenge me—but I have to admit that it is extremely effective.

I watch her as we travel, impressed at her calculating mind, and I come around on her coloring and appearance, too. I thought perhaps she was choosing a bland appearance, but I was wrong. The more I look at her, the more striking she becomes. Her mane is the perfect, glossy mix of yellow and brown. Why be one when you can be both and be both exceedingly well? Her eyes are bright and her face is symmetrical and pleasing, her mouth pink and soft. Her legs are strong and long and I watch her walk.

Granted, she is always walking away from me, but that is easily solved.

“What is it?”

I’rec has come up behind me, glaring at me.

“What is what?” I ask.

“You are slowing. Is the cold too much for you? Do I need to carry you?”

I scoff, offended. “You mistake me. I am not ailing. I am merely contemplating.”

His expression grows wary. “And what is it you contemplate?”

I stroke my chin. “How to lure my mate into my grasp. I am thinking, perhaps, some sort of trap. It is clear she is too skittish to approach directly.”

I’rec starts to shake his head before I even finish speaking. “Bad idea. Very bad idea. Humans do not take kindly to being trapped.”

“Then what is your suggestion?” I ask, irritated.

He thinks for a moment. “Presents.”

“Presence?” I consider this. “My presence is already awe-inspiring. Or do you mean I should fight again?”

I’rec raises a hand. “No. Presents. Gifts.”

Gifts? Shower her with trophies as if she has won something? She has won me and is acting sour about it. “Bah. Reward her for withholding herself from me? I think not.”

“You are going about this all wrong,” I’rec tells me as we walk. “I realize you still think like a tater, but you are a tater no longer. Now you must think like a tribe hunter. She is not a thing to conquer. She is your partner.”

A partner? Vivian? I laugh in his face at the very thought. “I would lose any match for certain if she was my partner. She is strong and agile and clever, but she is still a female.”

I’rec throws his hands in the air, shaking his head at me. “You are a lost cause. I have tried. Do not come crawling to me if she tries to kill you in your sleep.”

I actually find that thought arousing. Of my female in bed next to me, grabbing a weapon and looking at me with bloodlust in her gaze…hmm. I like that idea a lot. She will not succeed, of course, but the trying will be quite enticing. “You are not much help anyhow.”

I’rec scoffs and then pauses. “A’tar.”

“Eh?”

“The dragon. A’tar. You should talk to him when we return. He was a tater as well. Perhaps he will have advice for you on how to woo your female.”

I sneer at him, walking on and considering plans for capturing Vivian. I need no help from anyone. I need no gifts to bait my snare. I will entrap my female all on my own.