Page 12 of Love Galaxy

Where is the Female? I study the walls, searching for any small inconsistency that might alert me to where she is hiding. That she does not want anyone else to know she is here has me keeping my silence, even though I cannot look at John Smith and not want to strike him.

“ … Sorin?”

The Drah’os Male is looking around the kitchen with an air of disinterest and hardly appears to have noticed me, so focused on pointing out areas where he wishes cameras to be placed.

“Did you hear me, Sorin?”

I could toss John Smith’s body to the wind until he is nothing but white bone, and nobody but my brothers would be any the wiser. We are so far from civilization.

“Sorin?”

Is that why he brought the abducted Humans here? Because he knew that even the Interplanetary Guild would not have the resources to send to the edge of civilized space in the Humans’ defense?

“Sorin!” Roan knocks me with his shoulder.

“What?” I stumble sidewards and bump into the table, pushing it a few inches along the ground.

“Ouch,” comes a soft gasp from between chair legs, and my heart beats a stampede in my chest.

“What? I demand, speaking much too loud in my attempt to cover Briar’s hushed exclamation. “What did you say?”

“Isaidthat when they have finished setting up cameras here, you can take them to your house.” Turning to John Smith, he continues. “Sorin lives against the southern-most boundary.”

It takes only a few more minutes of work for the production team to satisfy themselves that the multiple kitchen cameras are correct, and then they follow a still talking Roan through the main entrance into the underground arboretum. His voice quickly fades from hearing as the door closes between us.

I lean against the table, trying to act natural as Killan, the only one to have remained behind, watches me closely.

“I knew you would not like the cameras.” My older brother steps nearer.

“At least I am not being openly hostile,” I retort harshly.

Briar is here,I should say. But there are cameras watching us, and I cannot bring myself to force the words from my mouth.

With a feeling akin to a physical flinch, I shield away from the thought that mayhaps I do not want to tell Killan about Briar because I do not want to share her. Righteous Killan, who wouldnever let an injustice go unpunished, would dismiss Mr. Smith and Chloe from our planet with all the confidence and authority of being the eldest brother, and then Briar would know it was Killan who could protect her, Killan who could be a good Mate.

I grind my teeth.

Or mayhaps she will meet Roan and be immediately drawn to his passion, his youthful earnestness, his merry chatter and his dedication to finding love, and mayhaps she would choose him over me.

“Is this what you call beingnot hostile?” Killan asks, glancing down at my closed fists.

Unclenching my hands takes all my willpower, and only when Killan shakes his head at me, as if he is the only one allowed to be angry today, and follows the others out of the kitchen do I release my held breath.

“Fek.” I bury my face in my upper hands. Already my anger is fading. Already I am feeling ashamed of the strength of my reaction. Never until a moment ago have I hated my brothers. Never until I met Briar did I want to hit them.

“That was way too close,” she whispers.

I straighten and turn to see her crawling out from under the table. She is not invisible or camouflaged. She looks how she did the first time I saw her—coated in dust from head to toe, all messy hairs and cloth-covered skin. Small, weak. Easily broken.

“I can’t stay down here. They’ll probably come back this way any second now.”

“Akh… that was Killan.” It takes a moment for her words to sink in, although I hardly think my translator is to blame, and then I’m suddenly selfishly glad she still cannot understand me because I did not answer her question correctly.

“Kill-an?” she asks, taking hold of my outstretched hand.

“My brother.” It feels too rude not to answer, despite her lack of understanding. “You would not like him,” I grumble. I pull hergently to her feet. The urge to hold her in my arms again, as I did when I carried her down the steps, is nearly overwhelming, and I tuck my four hands behind my back to prevent myself from reaching for her.

What is wrong with me?

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