Page 102 of Border Control
Samara smirks.
Two men either side of her step close behind her. They're scaled too, one with short cropped hair and spikes on his forehead, and the other with long curly hair and a willowy figure. She nods, and they march up the ramp and hoist Dom up by his shoulders. He dangles between them, his legs dragging behind him as they walk away. My heart lurches as he groans,
“Where are you taking him?” I demand. I'm not panicking. I'm not.
Samara turns to me, arching a brow as if amused by the question. She gestures to her car and her goons load Dom into the rear of it, dumping him in like luggage. Samara strides over to the door held open by a male with golden hair and scales, and slips inside with the effortless grace of a movie star.
The door slams on Dom as the All-Mother touches my arm. “Come. We can talk at my apartment, try to construct an argument to stay the Prif’s hand.”
Shade crawls down the ramp, and I scoop the plant up, hands trembling. But that's not where Dom is going to be, and moreover, the All-Mother doesn't have a lot of power. Fromwhat I've just seen, she has to be seen to agree with Samara in public, and do her quiet engineering behind the scenes.
Samara holds the power, and now she has Dom.
There's no decision to make here.
Holding Shade to my chest, I march over to the golden car and climb into it, ignoring the looks of surprise from Samara’s guards.
Samara’s golden eyebrows lift. “You’re bold, human.”
“That's me.” Even if it's the fake it ‘til I make it kind of bravery.
Samara’s smirk widens, but she says nothing as the car hums to life, gliding forward. As we pull away, I steel myself, preparing for whatever lies ahead. Because no matter what, I’m not letting Dom down again.
TWENTY-FIVE
LAURA
As the carglides smoothly down the road and then into the air, I curl my fingers into the seat of my chair. Shade’s utterly still, as if they know exactly how much shit we're in.
I'm opposite Samara, but I wonder if I should have sat next to her. She has a pad that displays images and numbers in the air in front of her, and she makes a few calls. “A human, yes. I'll pick you up in a click,” she says, then swipes a string of numbers toward the front of the vehicle. It changes direction, swooping smoothly to one side.
“What are you saying about me? Who else is interested in humans?”
Samara clicks her tongue, not looking up from her pad. “Only everyone. Humans are fashionable right now, so everyone who’s anyone wants to meet one. They all speak Earth, so they'll understand everything you say.”
“This is just one language from the planet Earth, English. We have thousands of languages and dialects.”
Finally her gaze snaps up to meet mine. Her eyes are a deep chocolate brown, with ruby around the irises.“Multiple languages on one planet? That must lead to many misunderstandings.”
“Frequently.”
She sits back, contemplating me as we pick up more female Olorians. Are these Samara’s friends? Maybe they're people she wants to impress, if humans really are the toast of the season right now. She seems the type to show me off if that's the case. I have to try to use that.
Once it seems we've got our passengers, a blonde, two redheads and a brunette, the car takes off again. The gazes of the other four females in the car drift over me, assessing my shirt and pencil skirt, stained with Dom's blood.
I ball my hands into fists, pressing my nails into my palms.
“Good morning, I’m Imaya,” the brunette says, brown scales shimmering. “I’m a researcher in off-world biology. I met the other human who came here.”
“Ellen, or Arabella?”
“Ellen, I think. With the Gerverstock who entered the mating games.”
Samara waves her hand and six glasses of bubbling liquid rise from a center console, blocking my view of Imaya. She lets her friends take theirs first, but I don't reach for one until she does.
“Tell me more about your planet, human,” Samara says, her tone somewhere between condescending and genuinely interested, like she’s waiting for me to say something she can mock.
I answer carefully. “We have a complex society. We try to coexist with other cultures, though we’ve had our share of conflicts, so we're well-versed in war.” Just in case they decide to add imperialistic ambitions to their weekend plans.
