Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Chapter
Nine
RANAN
My ears are hot as I stalk to the edge of Akara’s shell. How is it that I mistook her words? She was teasing me, and I assumed she was thinking the worst. Now I’ve snarled at her and she’s gone quiet.
I wasn’t entirely truthful with her as to why I live alone with Akara. Yes, she’s territorial. But I am also not good with people. I find the less I say, the less my mouth gets me in trouble. It’s another reason why living a nomadic life with Akara suits me.
But now there is this woman.
And she has a great many questions. And she wants to talk constantly. Yet every time I say anything to her, I get it wrong. It makes me angry at myself, and at the same time, I feel foolish.
I dive into the sea, hands above my head, and let the cool waters soothe the heat from my face. I surface, tossing my head-sail to shake loose the droplets, just in time to see that the woman—Vali—has tried to copy my movements. Her arms are over her head and she bends over the waters to attempt a dive, but it is clear she has never done one before.
She flops into the water, belly-first, and the smack of her skin against the surface is deafening.
I cannot help it—I bark with laughter.
She surfaces a moment later, her face contorted. “Owwww.”
“Diving is a skill that takes time,” I say, moving to her side to support her before she starts her flailing paddle. “Get the basics first.”
“You made it look easy,” she complains, but a hint of a smile is on her face. Even in her humiliation, she is light and relaxed…unlike me. When I am humiliated, I snap at her as if it is her fault.
I am a cur.
Self-loathing makes me speak up. “I didn’t know you were teasing,” I blurt out. “Earlier. With your words.”
She curls her arms around my neck, pressing her breasts to my chest as I tread water. I tell myself it’s no big deal. That she’s simply holding onto me because she can’t swim. And yet she’s wet and warm and soft and I can feel everything, including the light scrape of her nipples. “Is that an apology?”
“Does it need to be?”
Vali brushes her wet hair back from her face. “Not if we both know the truth of it.”
I manage a sharp nod. Her face is very near mine, her arms tight around my neck, and yet I don’t hate how close she is. Her skin is damp and golden and lovely and I can’t stop staring at her.
“We’re going to be learning about each other for a while,” Vali continues. “I promise not to get upset at you if you do something that bothers me, and you can promise not to yell at me if I do the same.”
She makes it sound so easy. Yet I know myself, and I know my sour temper. It’s almost as bad as Akara’s. “I cannot promise that. I’m too used to living alone. I might yell at you without thinking. Habit.”
Vali tilts her head, considering. “Well, if you do yell, just know that I will probably resort to acting like a slave. That means I’ll cry at your feet and beg for mercy and all kinds of pitiful groveling like that. Habit.”
I scowl. “I don’t want that. It sounds awful.”
She laughs, the sound bright and lovely as it echoes on the waters around us. “Well then, don’t yell at me!”
Truly, she could not have said anything more effective to make me pause. I hate the thought of Vali cowering in front of me, whimpering like a slave and begging for mercy. It would make me feel like a monster, and yet I suspect she’s done such things in the past.
The thought makes me angry. Irrationally so. I give her a little push away from me, even though I want nothing more than to clutch her bare skin against mine. “Let’s just focus on teaching you to swim.”
She immediately starts to paddle with sharp, frantic motions.
I have to grab her arms, holding her in place. “Not like that. Large strokes. Confident, slow strokes. You are pushing against the water, not beating at it. Never thrash in the water or make quick, jerky motions.”
“Why not?”
“That’s how an injured animal moves in the water. It flails, and in doing so, calls every predator in the sea to come and feast upon it.”
Her eyes grow wide, the whites of them enormous. “There are things in the ocean that are going to try and eat me? Things like…Akara?” Her gaze goes to the bright blue, clear waters around us and she gazes at it suspiciously—as she should. Fear of the sea is a good thing, especially in a fragile human. Vor’s creatures would feast upon her flesh in a moment given the chance.