could lean, so let’s go, everybody out of here.”
“They’re directing my workforce to exit this site without consulting me,” Bash continues speaking in a dangerously level tone. One that sounds like it could explode at any second.
“They’re helping you,” I contend.
“They are not.”
“They are!”
“Those flameless eternal punishments are driving me to the brink of insanity.”
Shuffling off to the side of us, Beth and Ekan laugh together, quoting, “The Cliffs of Insanity!” as they make their way to the steps that exit the quarry.
Oquillion, another of her pirate husbands, must see Bash’s nonplussed angry face because he explains as he passes us, “The Princess Bride. It’s a movie.”
“Humans and their damned movie-ing,” Bash mutters. He waves a hand capped with killing talons. “Get out of here, all of you. I can’t stand to look at your freakish smoothness and hear of your strange customs anymore.”
I start to pull ahead of him to go too, but to my relief and delight, Bash’s tail hooks around my short arm. “Not you.”
“You make me feel so speschial,” I sigh happily, falling into step beside him.
“You must be special,” he agrees, finally sounding amused more than murderous. “You are the only human who does not run from me.”
He doesn’t sound bothered by this, but still. I don’t want him to think he’s a monster, or anything. At least not on the outside. “Look at you. You’ve got sexy all over you with the big horns and the angry tail and that murderous glint in your eye. I can’t imagine why one of these women hasn’t run off with you yet. I mean, they seem to run from you fine,” I say, eyeing the women still scrambling out of Bash’s warpath.
“Stop speaking, Isla,” Bash orders. He shocks me by tugging on a lock of my hair. “Or I might feel forced to become creative in finding ways to encourage your silence.”
Whoa, happy-belly-shiver. “Really?” I croak.
Bash’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You’re incapable of not speaking.”
“Not true,” I argue, making him widen his eyes pointedly. “I’m told I don’t talk in my sleep.”
Instead of smiling or laughing like I expect and honestly was looking forward to, Bash’s expression turns Stygian black. “Who has been with you while you sleep to know this?”
I wave my hand in front of his face, making his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare and puff smoke. “Never mind that. That’s not the point of this conversation.”
“What is,” Bash says, fiery green eyes fixed on me, “the point of this conversation?”
“We’re working out how to get together. Here, let’s try holding hands.” I take his, and because he’s not expecting my palm to slide against his palm, he jumps. I ignore his reaction. I’m taming a wild alien, this twitchiness is to be expected. “It’s basically all the rage in stage one of dating. Or so I think it goes.”
His narrowed eyes are saying all the things. “You don’t know?”
I shrug and run my thumb along his calluses. “Guess things always moved too fast for this part. The downside of hookups, right?”
As always, Bash is peering down at me like he’s not catching everything I’m saying and he sort of looks like he could shake me for it. But his warm hand closes gently on mine, and doesn’t let go.
CHAPTER 25
ISLA
“Those deserters,” Bash mutter-complains, staring at the end of the nearly-emptied quarry where all of his workers are fleeing.
“Just because they left doesn’t mean we have to abandon work,” I point out.
Still clutching my hand, Bash walks us to a lineup of chisels and picks that need sharpening. Something I’ve never done but I’m happy to have Bash teach me—and he is insistent on teaching me because work must go on.
But that's fine by me. We enjoy each other’s company while getting tool repair done.
***
“Some humans went back to your home planet. You were not one of them?”
“Nope. I didn’t get here til after everyone from that trip got back. I didn’t get the chance to see Earth one last time.”
“Isla,” Bash starts, and suddenly I notice he’s all tense. I poke him in the ribs to snap him out of it, but he keeps his face averted. All his quills are standing on end—same for his dorsal spines. His tail swings behind us, snapping in an agitated, absent-minded arc that flicks lightly against my ankles every so often.
“What?”
“Were you taken from your dam or sires when you were stolen from your home planet?”
“My—” I brush my hair behind my ear. “No. Why?”
If possible, Bash’s