colony. This was the location. He just needed to find the right crevice among the many that littered that part of the cliffside.
Rhyst’s orb followed the shift of his eye as his gaze moved along the rock. The orb calculated each crevice, determining within half a breath whether or not it was the place where he had hidden the eminit. The offworlder shifted in his arms, her eyes scanning the ground curiously as she caught on to where his attention was directed.
As he climbed another incline, a hard smile creased his face when his eyes found the exact crevice. Shifting the female in his grip, he held her dangling from one arm as he reached in, his fingers searching for the cool metal shaft of the lance. His fingertips skimming, he felt it roll and pushed his hand in farther to fully grasp it with a muttered prayer that nothing venomous had decided to take shelter with it.
The female cursed against his side. “I’m not a side of beef!”
“I do not know beef,” he replied nonchalantly. He did not know why he should feel compelled to reply when she could not understand him, but for some perverse reason, it amused him to frustrate her further.
“You’re an asshole. You know that, don’t you? You’re going to make me sick if you keep treating me like a ragdoll. If I throw up in my helmet, it’s going to reek until I get back home and properly clean it.”
She twisted in his grasp to glare up at him through the window of her helmet as he pulled the eminit free. Her eyes widened behind the transparent window. Strange offworlders and their obsession with face coverings. He never saw them wear them indoors. Was it part of some uniform? He reached forward with one claw and tapped on the surface of the glass.
“Why do you wear this thing? You would do better to remove it, especially if you fear it getting soiled. You will not be returning to your people for some time. It will have to come off eventually. Do you not know that you need to take Inara Tahli into you to be able to be permitted a place in the world? All Tak’sinii know this, even though we have not had offworlders visit us in more generations than we count. You would be more comfortable with it off once you are exposed to the breath of Inara Tahli.”
Her nose wrinkled expressively. “I don’t know what you’re trying to sell me, but right now I’m telling you that I’m not buying it.”
He chuffed at her obstinate tone as he drew her back into his arms at what he assumed was the more comfortable position.
“Is that better?”
Her eyes narrowed at him as if she suspected that he might be mocking her. In response, the corners of his lips tipped up in grudging amusement. He was enjoying the female now that there was no barrier separating them. The mutinous expression on her face bore some similarity to Tak’sinii children when they sought to defy—it was entertaining.
Adjusting his arms around her, he began to climb once more, slinking around the rocks, his orb collecting data. The world became pitch dark around him beyond the capabilities of his natural sight, once the last slivers of light disappeared with the fading twilight.
His human drifted to sleep long before the late hour, her body sagging in his arms and curling into him. When she was awake, she held herself stiff in his embrace, but while she was sleeping, her guard was down and she looked all the more vulnerable for it. It felt strange, having her pressed against him. Tak’sinii females never sought comfort from a’sankh. They might tolerate being carried if necessary, but not one would allow herself to fall asleep in the embrace of an a’sankh male. Ironic that they would have cast aspersions on this little female for behaving in a way that was inappropriate with him, but he did not care. It was the first time in solars that he had physical contact with a female, and his body absorbed every point of contact as if committing her touch to memory.
Rhyst glanced down at the top of her head, his orb recording the soft, vulnerable expression on her face. The press of her cheek against his chest.
What was he doing?
He jerked his head away with a growl, refusing to look upon her a moment longer. She was at’sahl—she was not worthy. He was a’sankh.