Page 33 of Citrine

I decide to try again. He thinks I'm prey, yes, but I need to understand what's going on. I've never spoken this language before. I can't even call it a language since it's just mostly whale-like noises and dolphin-like clicks.

Talking is my life-blood, though so I'll take any form of communication I can and I want to know more.

"I don't know why I can speak your language, either. Something strange is happening to my body. This is not how I usually am."

I can't tell his facial expressions accurately, but I know I caught his attention. He growls at me lowly and I look down at his feet… tentacles. They're squirming on the grass, the force of his weight crushing the blades flat.

I have to crane my head up to look at him as he is quite tall, though judging by the way he has his tentacles arranged, he is using them to push himself into a more threatening position. Not that he needed help to look freaking scary as hell.

I keep my observations to myself and continue to communicate with him.

"Look, this isn't my home planet. I don't know where I am or how I got here. I'm healing faster than I normally would and my hair… it's different. My body has been altered."

His gaze briefly dwells on my hair before it moves down to my face, still silent. Somehow, I feel like I'm being judged by him. It doesn't feel nice to be judged by an alien, any more than all the looks I used to get when I was on the street.

As if I would have chosen that for myself, just like I didn't choose this.

"Do you know where we are? Is this your home?"

"No."

His tone is bitingly cold, which seems like a feat since he is clicking and singing. When I make similar clicks they don't sound quite so… violent.

Still, I'm grateful he even bothers to respond. He could just as well reach out to snap my neck, but he's staying in the same spot. Is it even a he? I just assumed. With that aggressive attitude and possessiveness, as well as the deep voice, I'm sure about it.

I don't like making assumptions about gender, but something tells me he won't answer me if I ask, and he will probably get angry that I want him to reveal anything about himself.

"Thank youfor saving me last night."

He cocks his head at me, and I realize thanking him didn't translate. Yet again.

Try as I might, I can't convey the words to him. I let out a long string of synonyms, then move on to Spanish, but none of them come out as clicks or song.

What kind of language doesn't have a word for gratitude?

Everything about him is just so weird. Those shark-like eyes seem to stare into my very soul, impatiently waiting for me to cease this conversation.

"I didn't mean to save you," he responds.

That shocks me, leaving me unable to respond. What does he mean by that? I saw him snap that crocodile-like creature in half with my own eyes. Was it because he was initially hunting the creature and saving me as a snack?

Is that why he propped me up on the rock I broke my arm falling off? Did he expect me not to get down from there and to wait for my death?

"So, why did you?" I manage to ask.

"I don't know why. You did something to me."

"I'm not capable of anything like that."

"I know you did," he growls. "Stop lying, female."

"I'm not lying," I say, fighting the urge to scream out in frustration.

He looks more frustrated than me, though. "I would have preferred to eat you than keep you alive."

I know what he's saying, but the implication of his words sends a shiver down my spine and a lingering warmth between my thighs. Although the feeling isn't unfamiliar, it's confusing.

How logical is it to be aroused when a terrifying and frankly rude creature tells me he's going to eat me? It's not, but every single time I see him it surges again.

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