Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
He glances over at me. “Do you think he still lives?”
It’s such a blunt question, and thinking about the possible answers to it brings tears to my eyes. If my father died out here on a trade mission, and I was denied the chance to get to him, I don’t think I will ever forgive anyone, including myself.
He reaches for me, wrapping me up in his embrace without a word. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was far too blunt a thing to say.”
“I hope he does,” I sniff against his shoulder. “I mean, we should be able to track him, right? He can’t have just disappeared.”
“Nothing is lost in the universe,” Freak says. “But it is sometimes converted from one thing to another. Your father may not be your father anymore. But he will still exist in some way.”
I frown at him. He is not good at this sort of thing at all. It’s like he has too broad a view of life and death to understand what a fucking downer it is. “Don’t say things like that.”
“I’m sorry, pet,” he says, snugging me closer once more, giving me comfort with his body that he can’t give me with his words. “I am not trying to upset you. We can look for your father, but we are also at war, and it might be a conflict of interest. But if you like I will put out a cosmic APB on him. If there is news to be had, we will have it.”
“Thank you,” I say. I don’t add that if he doesn’t find him pretty soon, I am definitely going to run away and find him myself. I don’t even think it. Maybe I am getting better at controlling my thoughts. Go me.
“Pet, I…”
Freak is about to say something to me when a loud crash comes from the galley.
“Excuse me,” he says, proceeding in that direction. I just got the tail out of my butt, but I feel a flash of warmth across my rear cheeks. The expression on his face tells me someone is in trouble. I’ve never seen anybody who wasn’t me be in trouble with him, so that’s kind of fun.
“What are you lot doing?” He asks the question dryly. I could tell him. They’re wrestling. Aric has Drak in a headlock and Fidas looks set to hit them both with a frying pan. The scene is ridiculously immature, but then again, they are all male and I’ve seen fully grown men act worse than small boys back at home, too.
“We’re testing a theory,” Aric says, letting Drak go slowly.
“I was going to see if I can bang the thoughts out of Drak’s head,” Fidas says.
“We are currently scouting and on a war footing, and you think giving each other brain damage is a good idea?” Freak asks the question with censure. I lean back against the wall and watch him work. It’s kind of sexy seeing him dominate someone else for a change.
“We were stuck in the home realm for a long time,” Aric explains. “It drives you a little mad to exist in a world of pure concept that long. We’d forgotten what actually being hurt felt like. Figured we should try to work it out.”
“By hitting Drak in the head with a frying pan.”
“Someone had to be hit. He lost,” Fidas says.
They are all rippling in a blue, scaly, and muscly fashion as he talks. I wonder if he’ll let them get away with their shenanigans, or if they’re really in trouble.
“I’ll beat all three of you, if that helps,” Freak says. “We can stop at the next station and make a day of it.”
I assume that’s a scary threat, but they don’t react that way.
“Hell, yes!” Aric and Drak grin at each other.
“Amazing!” Fidas says, high-fiving both of the others in a gesture that is frankly so human I almost forget they’re not.
“Bring the pan,” Freak says dryly.
He grabs me on the way back, his hand circling the back of my neck. His grip is firm and I feel myself tingling in response to the display of control. I like the way he handles his men. I like how they seem to respect him. And I like how he doesn’t make everyone be something they’re not.
“They’re not like what I thought they’d be like,” I say as he takes me back to his room to do unspeakable things to me. “I thought Psyons were all serious and proper, and…”
“That’s Alara’s influence,” he says. “And, I guess, propaganda. We are a mix of two very different things. Very advanced intellectual and temporal properties, and feral animals.” He flexes his hand slightly and I feel his claws, just the tips digging in a little.
“People forget about the animal part too often, but we do not. It is important to give it rein from time to time. Might seem like the kitchen is a bad place for it, and it is, but it’s better than the bridge. It’s a small ship.”