Page 68 of Alien God

“Oh. I assumed because of the antlers that... Well, obviously she’d be different than something from Earth. Although, I think female reindeer have antlers, now that I think about it.”

“You have creatures like this where you come from? Earth?”

A shimmering smile touched her lips. With a tightening of my jaw, I realized this was the first time I’d seen Torrance smile without a touch of malice or defiance in the expression. Her countenance was tender, touched with something akin to reverence.

“No. Not like this,” she answered. Her voice was softer than usual, too. No anger in it, no fear or notes of complaint, just something that was far too close to awe-struck affection for my comfort. “We have horses and deer but she’s more like a unicorn, just with antlers.” Her cheeks grew pinker, her voice even sweeter. “She’s like something from a dream.”

So, the human could dream. And she dreamed of beautiful things, things like sontanna with pearlescent coats and manes like morning sky.

I could not remember the last time I’d dreamed.

“What’s her name?”

I did not know, and I was ashamed to admit it to her. Which was absurd, that I would feel shame for anything in front of her, an interloper, a prisoner. But I was. And it only added to my shame that I wanted to lie about it. To come up with a name on the spot, just so that I would not appear to be the sort of man who did not deign to know a name.

But I could not think of an appropriate name, or even a word to act as one. I stared at Torrance, and the only words pounding through my head were ones like soft skin and honey, tiny and willful, bruised and beautiful. No! Stone of the sky, not beautiful, something else, something –

“Will she bite me?” Torrance asked again. Apparently, she’d given up on me answering the name question, and I found myself abhorrently relieved by that. Her small hands had emerged from her cloak and were clasped together in front of her chest, as if she was barely holding herself back from reaching for the creature.

“Yes,” I grunted, knowing it wasn’t true. “Sontanna are notorious for biting insolent females.”

Torrance dropped her hands. The tremulous smile disappeared, her mouth flattening into an expression of shielded disappointment that made something in the vicinity of my chest twang painfully.

“Although,” I said, ignoring the voice inside me that told me to stop, stop now, to let her be disappointed, let her be sad, blast if I cared, “if I held her, she likely wouldn’t.”

Wariness crept into Torrance’s gaze, warring against something that looked like hopeful desire. It was a desire I recognized easily, something almost child-like, pure and innocent, born out of love and loneliness. The tender-hearted need to stroke a beautiful animal, to befriend it, to protect it and be protected.

Once again, a sense of kinship rose inside me. And once again, I struggled to beat it back. I did not want to think of her as tender-hearted, as someone who loved animals and snow like I did. I wanted her simple. One-note. An unrepentant, belligerent, evil little thief. I wanted her to be someone who deserved everything I could throw at her.

Make me hate you, I hissed inside my own head.

But, as she was wont to do, she disobeyed.

Instead, the tight wariness faded from her face, and the aching hope grew stronger, brighter, until I could no longer deny it.

I fisted the sontanna’s mane – gently, barely even holding the pink strands, a mere illusion of mastery – and uttered a quietly stern command meant to make it look like I was in control of the calm creature when such control was not at all required.

“You’re sure?” Torrance asked, one final brush of hesitation even as her hand rose in the air.

I have been sure of nothing since I found you.

“Yes,” was all I said.

Her hand floated upwards, trembling slightly. Her slender fingers made tentative contact with the sontanna’s mane. The sound of her gasp shot through me, like starlight spearing through water.

“Oh,” she whispered thickly, her other hand rising to stroke the sontanna. “Oh, you’re lovely, aren’t you?” The sontanna snuffled happily, as if in agreement. Her pink tail swished, and she lowered her nose, bumping it to Torrance’s cheek, knocking the hood back and nuzzling inward.

Torrance’s eyes went so wide I worried she’d been injured by the contact. My fist tightened, ready to wrench the sontanna back, but my fingers slackened instantly when Torrance began to laugh. It started as a shaky huffing sound that expanded into something louder, more melodic. Her eyes shone, glimmering with moisture as I’d seen them do before when she was unhappy, and I could not help but wonder what had made her sad even while she laughed.

I want you simple.

Sorrow and laughter. Innocence and treachery. A stolen crystal knife in a soft little hand. A hand that was stroking and petting with such gentleness now, reaching to hug the sontanna’s bent neck.

“Do you want to ride her?” The question was out before I could stop it. Torrance’s laughter ceased.

“I... I don’t know how. I’ve never ridden a horse on Earth.”

“You don’t need to know how. I do.”

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