Page 57 of Matched to the Alien King
The goddess-damned pigeon licker didn’t miss anything when it came to every blink, every thought, every breath I had.
But he didn’t know exactly what I’d hidden, or where within the bathroom. All he’d heard was me in there “not making normal bathroom sounds.” His words. I’d gotten that out of him in the shrinking escape room. Why he listened so closely to my “bathroom sounds,” I will never know.
The point is he knew I was hiding something even though I’d completely blown off the idea as preposterous.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” I’d told him, at that point not realizing the walls were crushing in on us, “there are machetes in the tops of the beach house’s closets. I was seeing what other weapons might be around so I’m prepared for the next time someone tries to kill me.”
He’d crossed his arms and studied me closely. Too closely. “You didn’t find anything though.”
He said it as a statement of fact, not a question, likely because he already knew the answer. The pigeon–livered dolt.
“No.” I’d stepped up to him then so he could read me nice and clear. “Now stop stalking me to the bathroom.”
He’d grinned a little too sharply. “Keep your enemies close, am I right?”
“Yeah, spoken like a real pervert.”
That had made him laugh.
With him, though, he often blurred the lines between enemy and…acquaintance? Definitely not friend. Possibly an ally, at least here on Klio-3. Maybe even a traitor to his own Killian race for giving up the secret about the light-blue moss growing in the caves on his home world.
Anyway, that was when Nera had shrieked at the wall hand grabbing her, and now the four of us were climbing into the rickety yellow boat that had already nearly capsized twice.
“Big guys on either side to balance the weight,” Nera ordered.
“How much do you want to bet Judge took the nicer, bigger boat?” the Killian asked. “Because he sure as hell didn’t swim out of here.”
“I don’t think he could have.” I pointed into the darkness toward the roaring water, having left my flashlight in the shrinking room. “I’m pretty sure that’s a waterfall. A big one from the sound of it.”
Bling’s navy-colored, cat-like eyes blew wide. “What? We’re going down it?”
I nodded. “And probably into some rapids.”
“With no life jackets?” she asked.
The Killian pointed to the hovering drones. “Life jackets aren’t sexy and don’t make for good TV.”
“Well, neither does death. The probability of surviving a waterfall decreases exponentially without life jackets, and that’s without the height of the falls variable.” She shook her head hard. “We might be doomed.”
Maybe so, but Nera sure didn’t look it. She sat on the edge of her seat next to me, her muscles working as she sluiced her oar through the water in time with mine. Her dark, loose waves fluttered around her stunning face and the shoulders of her Space Fleet uniform. Her perfect, pouty lips were set in a determined line while she faced ahead, ready for anything, like always.
That right there was one of the reasons I admired her. One of themanyreasons.
I grinned at her, which she caught out of the corner of her eye. She smiled and stopped rowing long enough to blow me a kiss, and I felt it everywhere, just like I felthereverywhere.
She was consuming me in the best way possible, blurring us together until we became one. Better than one. She held my next breath in her palm with the delicacy of a rare pearl.
Sappy thoughts from a brutal warrior king, but there they were, all bleeding out from my hearts for this woman.
“What is the probability of survival?” the Killian was asking Bling from the front.
“I-I don’t know all the variables,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t even see ahead of us.”
“Best guess,” he prompted.
“One in a crap ton chance of survival.”
“And what’s a crap ton?”
