Odin (Alien Adoption Agency #5) - Tasha Black Page 0,9

you do that?” she asked.

“It’s just a baby thing,” he said, shrugging. “If you touch the inside of his palm, he’ll hold your finger. And if you stroke the outside, he’ll let go.”

“That can’t be right,” Liberty said.

“Try it,” Odin offered.

She skimmed her index finger along one open hand.

Instantly, Colton grabbed her finger.

She looked up at Odin in surprise.

He laughed. It was a lovely sound, deep and rich, reverberating through her.

She quickly turned her attention back to the baby before she could remember how handsome Odin was.

“Stroke his hand,” Odin urged her.

She did, and the little fist released.

“That will save you from being bald as a boulder before he grows up,” Odin pointed out.

“Thank you,” she said. “This friendship is working out for me already.”

“About that,” Odin said.

But Gadabout snorted and stopped in her tracks before he had a chance to continue, causing Liberty to almost slide off her seat.

Odin caught her by the elbow and hauled her back up.

“What happened?” Liberty asked.

“It’s a storm,” Odin said, glancing up ahead of them.

They had been slowly winding uphill, but Liberty had been so interested in the conversation about Colton that she hadn’t realized they were now on a narrow path heading up the side of the mountain.

Ahead of them, something floated menacingly in the air.

Odin had said it was a storm, but it was nothing like any storm Liberty had ever seen.

It was dark like a cloud, but rounded, like an oblong soap bubble. As she watched, it undulated toward them.

“Did you say that was a storm?” she asked him.

“A floating mist storm,” he explained. “It happens on Lachesis, in the mountains, because of the low gravity and the pressure systems.”

“Is it dangerous?” she asked.

“Not normally,” he said. But his voice was too calm, too careful.

“What do we do?” she asked.

“Let it pass,” he said. “Except that we’re on a narrow trail and we can’t back up fast enough.”

Liberty looked around. There were several large trees just off the path. She wasn’t sure if they would provide much cover, but it had to be better than nothing.

“If we get out, will Gadabout be okay?” Liberty asked.

“If she runs, it will be along the path,” Odin pointed out. “Or she’ll wreck the cart. Hard to say. Why don’t you and Colton take cover. I’ll stay with the beast.”

Liberty got a pang, like someone was stretching her heart into pieces at the thought of leaving him.

But that was ridiculous. She was only going to hide in the trees next to the path.

Odin hopped down and offered her his hand.

“Okay,” she said, not feeling good about it. She had to protect Colton. That was her whole life now. Odin could handle himself.

“There are a lot of crustaceans in the trees,” Odin said, helping her down. “Don’t go too deep.”

“Crustaceans?” she echoed in horror.

“Go,” he said sternly.

She followed his eyes to the storm ahead. It was nearly on top of them.

Gadabout snorted and kicked her legs.

“It’s only a bath,” Odin said, holding the creature’s harness. “You can certainly use one.”

The storm rumbled as loud as a starcraft engine.

Liberty shuddered and slipped into the trees beside the road.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the shade. Lachesis was murky enough, but under the tree canopy it felt like night had already come.

She kept her body wrapped around Colton, who made a small squeaking sound of protest when she blocked his view.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized the tree beside her was teeming with life. Tiny, shelled creatures marched industriously along the knobby bark, carrying bits of leaf. Tendrils of moss reached out and floated away from her, obviously spooked by her presence.

Some sort of creature had constructed a gorgeous dome-shaped web made up of circular cells. Nothing was caught in it, but drops of dew shone like diamonds in its depths.

Up on the path, Gadabout made a shrieking sound, and she heard Odin’s low murmur again.

She was very sure he was only insulting the big ox-yak, but his gentle tone was working. And it was better than hearing the cart careening off the mountainside.

“Moons of Tar-zak,” Odin growled.

She leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse, but she came face to face with a little turtle sitting in a nest on a branch of the tree.

“Come on out,” Odin said, sounding pissed off. More so than usual.

She stepped carefully back out onto the path and had a hard time taking in what she was seeing.

Thousands of clear droplets hung in