Page 8 of Seven Oars
“Shut up,” Alyesha hissed through clenched teeth.
“They can’t understand you, Anske,” Mara whispered loudly.
Language barrier or not, one of the Rix was already striding toward Anske. He loomed over the older, smaller woman and glowered without changing his expression.
He reached out.
For one breathless moment, Rosamma was afraid he’d…
Blood drained from her head.
He merely unzipped Anske’s bag and dumped half its contents onto the forest floor before yanking it free from the roots and handing it back to her.
“Oh. Oh, no!”
“Shut. Up,” Gro hissed.
The procession moved on at a faster clip.
Rosamma trudged at the end of the line, her bag getting heavier with each step. Physically unfit, she was sweating from exertion and pressing her lips together in fear that her labored breathing might draw attention.
She felt like a fish out of water. This situation, these alien men—all of it was dangerous, hard, unforgiving. It demanded strength of both the character and body she had never believed she possessed.
I’m always a burden.
Still, she chugged along, clutching her bag, terrified that if she fell, they would leave her behind.
She couldn’t fail Ren. It was his only chance to leave.
A section of the spaceship depot’s fence had been conveniently compromised, probably by Lyle or possibly by Ren. They slipped through two ragged edges and stepped inside the perimeter.
Spaceships of every imaginable shape and size filled the depot. The place smelled of fuel and static electricity, a hair-raising combination. Or maybe it was just Rosamma’s senses misfiring, shorting out from the realization that her time on Meeus was coming to a close.
The ship they approached sat among a cluster of space vehicles that looked long-abandoned. This whole corner of the spaceship depot radiated neglect, with rust everywhere and grass sprouting in the cracks in the concrete.
Without warning, the ship’s hatch lowered without a sound, revealing another tall, broad-shouldered Rix in the opening.
“Get in,” the leader ordered.
Rosamma swallowed, but it didn’t help the loud ringing in her ears.
Almost there.
Ren and Paloma would be waiting inside. The thought boosted Rosamma’s flagging spirits, if not her strength.
Alyesha stepped aboard first, her stylish combat boots striking the metal ramp with a confident clomp.
It galvanized the rest. One by one, they climbed the high ledge and disappeared inside under the cold, watchful eyes of their Rix shepherds.
Rosamma hoisted her duffel to the hatch’s ledge, but her shawl unraveled and slipped, tangling at her feet. She fell like a rag doll. A rock bit into her hip.
Still, she didn’t make a sound, even if tears of humiliation and helplessness burned her eyelids. Her ears rang harder as her energy, her Tana-Tana’s imperfect heritage, stubbornly refused to kick in.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of boots approach. Large hands reached for her, flipping her and lifting her body with ease. Her weight meant nothing to the leader; he leapt on the ledge with Rosamma in his arms as if she were made of feathers.
She stiffened—not out of fear, but sheer amazement. He was so strong. She was surrounded by pure, unadulterated strength, and it packed a hot punch. So much male physical power next to her body created a different kind of buzz in her head. Like touching the sun.
But before Rosamma could savor the sensations, he set her down. Someone tossed her back in after them. The hatch closed.
