Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
But then the half-lizard guy, Skarr, sits next to me and the day rapidly starts to slide into the minus column.
He beats his chest like some sort of Tarzan wannabe and bellows at the top of his lungs. He tells everyone how amazing he is for picking a fight with another guy and winning. He struts through camp like some sort of green peacock and I decide that living with someone like Skarr for the rest of my days is going to be a checkmark firmly in the minus column. Even Flor doesn’t like the guy. I see the annoyed looks she keeps shooting in his direction, like she wishes he would shut the fuck up. I’m glad I’m not the only one thinking that.
Skarr saunters next to me by the fire, and it takes everything I have not to get up and leave. He’s obnoxious, but even obnoxious guys deserve to get warm. Given that he’s got scales, he’s probably part lizard. If he’s cold-blooded, it’s going to be rough here for him. I should feel sorry for him. When I look up, he flexes and gives me a triumphant look.
Ugh. So much for feeling sorry for the guy. I hope he gets an icicle up his tush to fix that attitude.
But then something alarming happens.
My chest quivers. At first I think I’m shivering again. That I’ve caught a cold. But then the quivering gets louder, like someone’s starting up a lawnmower nearby. I look around for the source of the sound, and it takes a moment before it dawns on me—the reason why it’s so loud is because I’m the one that’s making the sound.
I’m vibrating.
Resonating.
Frowning, I press my hand to my breasts, which feel like they’re being motorboated by my internal organs. I look up—and see the lizard guy’s triumphant expression.
He’s resonating, too.
Oh hell no. That’s for me? He’s supposed to be mine?
There’s an expression about dating and plenty of fish in the sea, but I wonder if there’s also an expression for throwing back the catch you don’t want. Because I most definitely do not want this absolutely obnoxious, pompous jackass.
He smirks at me and thumps his chest again, the gesture one of triumph.
Yeah, no.
I get to my feet and leave. I imagine my minus column just filling with endless negatives, one after the other. Nightmare. This is a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I see a sympathetic look on Sabrina’s face, but I avoid her. I don’t want to hear her say sweet things about how it’ll all work out for the best. Another woman looks miserable as I stagger past, as if she’s realizing that we can just as quickly be fucked over by this “resonance” thing as we can be rewarded. I don’t want to talk to her, either. I don’t want to be comforted by anyone.
I just want to get away.
To run. To escape this hellish nightmare I’ve woken up to and never look back.
I hug my fur-trimmed tunic tighter to my body and keep walking. We’re in a valley—it’s apparently where all the clones were dumped—with high cliffs nearby. I avoid climbing out of the valley bowl, sticking near the walls and walking in the shadows of the rocky cliffs. I don’t know if I’m much of a climber.
I don’t know anything.
Well, I do know one thing—the lizard guy sucks.
What the fuck, khui? What the everloving fuck? I thought we were friends. If not friends, that at least we had a common goal—survival. But that guy is the worst. Maybe my khui is unhinged. Maybe it’s faulty and it’ll just resonate to anyone and anything. There has to be a logical explanation as to why it would pick a bully for me right away. What the hell does that say about me and who I was?
My thoughts spiral as I continue walking. The valley walls ease away, and I see a cluster of trees on the horizon, swaying on the breeze. The ground slopes, the purple and white-capped mountains ubiquitous in the background, a constant reminder that this isn’t home, because home was…
I pause, waiting for the thought to finish itself.
It never does.
With a growl of frustration, I continue on, arms hugged to my chest. I concentrate on those words, trying to force my mind to finish. Because home was…what? Home was…? Home was….??? I chant this mantra, trying on different things as I walk and walk.
Home was…cold? But not this cold?
Home was…hot? The desert?
Home was…the ocean?
Nothing fits quite right.
The crunch of footsteps in the snow tell me that someone has followed me. I turn my head—and recoil when I see it’s the lizard guy. He’s followed me out here. I face forward again, scowling. “Ugh. What do you want?”
There’s a pause, as if he didn’t expect that kind of greeting. “I wanted to look at my female.”