bowl of whatever today’s breakfast is.
Just then, my cootie fires up, rumbling loud and angry and sending pulsing heat through my body as if someone just touched my clit. I shudder, and I’m not entirely surprised when J’shel arrives with an armful of driftwood. He dumps it in front of the fire and straightens, his hand going to his chest as he stares at me.
I can’t help but stare back. I want to tear my gaze away, but it no longer feels like it’s my decision. It’s like my cootie has decided that we’re devouring each other with our eyes and I have no say in the matter. Maybe it’s the cootie influencing me, or maybe it’s something else, but J’shel is the most attractive alien I’ve ever seen. Like…mouthwateringly attractive. All of the aliens are big and brawny, with a height that makes every girl feel tiny. J’shel has smaller horns than some of the others, his no-more-than-slender arches that wing along his temples as if holding back his long, thick black hair. It’s pulled into an ever-present braid and I swear his braid is so long that it reaches past his backside, so I can only imagine the thick curtain of it loose and flowing down his back. Like the others in his Strong Arm tribe, he’s got an impossibly thick torso and four big, brawny arms, but it somehow doesn’t look weird on him. He looks strong and capable and just…brawny. Like us, the islanders aren’t as used to the cold and so he wears a fur cloak over his shoulders and long pants and boots and somehow even that shows off his intensely gorgeous body. There’s not an ounce of fat on him, and as I stare, I notice that he has the most intensely carved obliques that lead right into his loincloth and make me feel funny with heat. Of course, I realize that I’m staring and so I look up again…
And notice that he’s devouring me with his eyes, too.
It’s too much for me to handle. With a muffled sound of distress, I veer away from the fire and J’shel, and strategically retreat.
I don’t trust myself to get too close to him. If I do, I might forget how much I hate it here and pounce on his fine ass.
And I can’t do that. I can’t forget that I want to go home. That I need to go home. I refuse to accept anything else.
The entire world’s waiting for me back home.
2
J’SHEL
My heart sinks when my female takes one look at me and then races away again. I watch as she heads toward the beach and the edges of the great salt waters, and I wonder if I should follow. Then I imagine H’nah running into their dangerous depths just to get away from me. It would not be logical, but neither is avoiding resonance and she has done that admirably for the last turn of the moon.
I do not want her to be frightened of me, though, so I sigh and toss driftwood onto the fire. My hands grow sticky from the resin on the bark, and the faint scent of home touches my nose. Fierce, melancholy longing races through me. I remember days of climbing in the trees, eating sweet fruit and fresh ground nuts. I remember the taste of warm sviket, freshly killed, and the hot, sultry breeze ruffling the leaves of the tall tree I stood in. I remember climbing to the top and gazing out on a world that was green as far as the eye could see, right up until the edge of the water.
That world is gone now.
Instead of endless green, there is nothing but white. Instead of warmth, there is the chill of frozen water as it rains down from the skies in “snow.” There are no trees, only rocky cliffs and jagged, distant mountains.
But there are females here…and even if my female ignores me, it is better to be here so I can watch over her.
I wipe the last of the sap off on my leathers and then return to my seat next to my friend and clansmate N’dek. He stares into the fire, utterly melancholy. His mane is messy, his braid nearly undone, and he smells as if he has not bathed in days. There are hollows under his eyes and his expression is dull. He rubs the healed stump of his leg absently as he stares into the fire and ignores me.
He looks