Page 24 of Alien's Luck
“No, I am not afraid. I am demonstrating a healthy respect for the water by keeping my distance.”
“I’m not judging.” She was. A little. “I’m just surprised that a fella who lives on a ship has such a pho—healthy respect for the water.”
His wings did that shivering flutter again, and now his tail was in on the action, lashing from side to side. “My people are not buoyant.”
“Is it because you are made of stone?”
Wow. Carla had never seen anyone throw daggers with their eyes before.
“I am not made of stone,” he said, sounding offended.
“I dunno. You felt pretty solid when I was wailing on you.”
He sighed dramatically, undoing a cuff and pushing the fabric of the sleeve up, exposing his forearm.
A really nice forearm. The sunlight hit him just right, shimmering purple over his stony gray skin.
“My skin is different from yours. Increasing the density offers protection.” He flexed his fingers. The skin grew darker, losing the purple sheen as it shifted into a charcoal gray.
She wanted to touch him, to see if his skin felt as solid and cold as it looked, but it was rude and inappropriate. You didn’t go around petting people. She stretched out her hand. “May I?”
“If you must.”
She brushed a finger along his forearm. The skin was more supple than she expected; not quite leather and definitely not stone. She glanced up. His violet eyes watched her intently. His tail brushed against her ankle.
Suddenly conscious that her curious touch was morphing into a caress, she jerked her hand away. “When I shot you, you were stone? That’s why the discharge didn’t hurt you?”
“Yes. I am skilled and can shift quickly,” he said with pride. “Although you did ruin a favorite suit.”
“Maybe learn to dodge a bullet rather than standing in one place, looking like a target.”
Ari made a huffing noise, sounding almost amused.
The moment felt…weird. Blame it on the sunset, the pushed-up sleeves and exposed forearms, or her utter exhaustion, but she felt an imbalance between them. Ari confided a phobia. No doubt he’d lord it over her about how fantastic and sophisticated he was, and Carla was just a stabby-shooty hooligan. To get back on an equal footing, she needed to share.
Sharing was the worst.
“I’m afraid of trees,” she blurted out.
“Pardon? Trees? Big things with leaves?” He gestured grandly with his arms, like that was supposed to represent a tree.
“I’m from the prairie. We don’t have a lot of trees. Just fields and cows, all the way to the horizon. If your car hit an icy patch in the winter and went off the road, the worst thing you’d hit was a fence post. Maybe a cow,” she said, face burning with embarrassment and also annoyed at herself. It was complicated. She could be complicated, all right? “When I moved to the city, the trees were everywhere. They crowd out the sky. Like, how do you know where you’re going? Also, what happens if there’s an accident? You hit a tree and die.”
“You are wise to be worried.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Carla said. “You’re scared of the water and live on a boat.”
“It’s a ship capable of space travel and is also waterproof.”
Oh, the sass in his delivery.
She opened her mouth for a snappy comeback but yawned instead. “Sorry. Humans do that when we’re tired. It’s not a sign of aggression or anything.” Unlike with some alien cultures. She found that out the hard way.
Concern flickered across his face. “It has been a long day. We will discuss strategies tomorrow.”
Fine, as long as there was a strategy to discuss tomorrow, and Ari didn’t double -cross her.
ARI
