Page 19 of Defiance
“Aye, that’s what dinner’s for,” I said with a questioning lilt, raising my brow. “And this is fecking heavy. You mind? I just need to set it down out of the water.”
To his credit, Novak looked conflicted as he crossed his arms and ignored my question.
“Is your bionic system closed?”
“Jharim messed with it a few hours ago,” I said, unclear if I should mention the parumauxi swarm or not. I decided no. “So yes, I assume so.”
“Then I want to hear it from your lips,” Novak said. “What you think you agreed to.”
My arm was starting to shake, so I hoisted the cage onto my other hip with a grimace.
“A trip to Piaoguo with you as my bodyguard. I’ll be a nice little worm on a hook and you’ll rescue me if any fish bite.”
“How?”
My abdomen tightened as I bit the inside of my cheek. “My scent. You need it to track me.”
Novak breathed out a sigh of relief. His tail unraveled, gliding silently above the ground, scales adjusting in a wave like you might see at a football stadium, each one sounding like a sharpening stone. “You really did consent.”
“Yes, I did. And I know that the more intimate we are about it, the better you can track me. So,” I took a deep breath, “about dinner…?”
His ear twitched, muzzle turning towards the picnic on the boulder where my dim yellow lamp illuminated our food as if he was just noticing it for the first time. With his profile exposed to the clear night, I saw a grin stretch his lips, exposing bright white fangs.
“A date, right?” he mused. If he called it cute, I’d deck him. “Sure, why not?”
“Craic, now get your fancy boots dirty and take this damned cage,” I said, waddling the rest of the way out of the river.
Novak met me in the clay and lifted it from my arms like it was a shoebox, staring down at me as his forearms took the brunt of the weight. Long thin claws curled up from the underside as he held it between us and breathed in deep. The great cavern of his lungs filled with a rumble and gooseflesh erupted over my arms.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to appear nonchalant as I brushed my palms off on my waders. “You can put it by my bag, over there.”
He stood still as I moved away without waiting for him to respond, staring at the water slowly filling up my boot prints. I unlatched my waders by the tree where I’d left my sandals and made quick work of brushing down my frock, taming my fly-away curls behind my ears.
“Have you done this sort of mission before?” I asked, proud of my casual tone.
Novak’s ear twitched. He unstuck himself from the clay and set the cage by my bag.
“Yes and no.”
“Which parts are yes and which are no?” I asked, sitting down on the picnic blanket.
Novak’s shadow approached the side of the boulder as I pointed back towards the haphazard stack of stones I’d climbed gracelessly. He braced his long, strong fingers against the boulder’s curve and used his core to swing his legs up in a crouch without a sound, entering the ring of warm light.
We stared at each other. His features were beautiful and confusing, like a butterfly with eyes in the patterns of their wings. His were the same color as his scales with vertical red pupils that narrowed as they adjusted to the light. Similar redslashes ringed his stare and were peppered with neon orange speckles. I wondered what the adaptation was good for… Misdirection during a fight? Distracting and mesmerizing an opponent? Maybe his homeworld had flora that were similar and he used them for camouflage. Maybe he was poisonous to eat.
And his nose wasn’t shaped like a jackal at all, but narrower and slitted, as if he could press his nostrils closed above water while the rest of him was hidden beneath the surface. His scales were smooth save his jaw bone, where they grew thick like crocodile hide around petite spikes or horns, the longest of which was about one knuckle in length.
“Yes to the guarding and recon. No to the scent burn,” he said. His mouth adjusted even if he kept it shut and part of his muzzle moved with it as if he were built with the highly flexible skull of a viper rather than a canine.
“Scent burn. That must be the tracking part.”
A forked tongue left his lips and tasted the air between us, leaving my cheeks bristling. At any moment, I felt as if my freckles might fry right off my face.
“I track all of my targets with mycoleara,”he said, tapping the top of his muzzle. “Scent burn is far more intense than that.”
“Right.” I cleared my throat, pushing curls behind my ear out of nervous habit. “I also brought some salted beers that are now warm, andebadhipockets, which are now cold…”
“Perfect.” When he smiled it was charming, unraveling some of the knots in my stomach. “Warm beer and cold fish pastries are my favorite.”
